To Yearn For Greener Shores
by DancesWithElves
Summary: Life on a farm was not her desire...so she strikes out alone into the Wild in hopes of making a better life for herself. Unbeknownst to our heroine, Fate has other ideas. Elrohir/ElladanxOC or BoromirxOC pairing. Not a Mary Sue. Rated M for later chapters. R&R, my pretties! :)
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Tolkien's...his works are just an outlet to my madness. **

**A/N: **Welcome, lords and ladies, to my first fanfic! I hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it! I know that it may appear a bit strange at first, but please bear with me...all will be revealed in time. Please read and review so that I'll know if y'all are interested enough for me to continue writing. Hannon le, my readers!

* * *

**Prologue**

Some might say that life is a predetermined course of events, choices, and emotions; others would argue that each existence has an unpredictable future and that we are the masters of our own destinies. These two ideals have been at odds for millennia, and since then, naught has been resolved nor settled.

"_Well, which side do you agree with more?" _you ask.

Neither.

I believe that while there may be those who can foretell a person's future, each life is unique and subject to change according to the individual in question's various decisions. The gods (known to some as "the Valar") may be able to see all sides but I wager that not even they can foresee all sides.

In Arda, each sentient being is granted a mind, soul, and desire to "change their stars", as it is oft known here; very few, however, make that leap of faith into the unknown, fearing either rejection, failure, or both and more. I am one of the few who sought to make something more of myself than what was already put before me.

Yes, I ruefully admit that the manner in which I went about such an endeavor was….rather unorthodox. My story is a strange one indeed but not without reason. I pray that it gives you hope and peace regarding your own destiny.


	2. Lowly Origins

**Chapter I**

** Lowly Origins**

I was born outside the great city in a thatched farmhouse on a grassy knoll. My parents named me after one of their ancestors – an individual who is recorded as someone of great importance. When I was a wee one, I would curl up on my father's lap and wrap his strong, burly arms around my tiny frame, listening intently as he would recall tales of ages long past. In his deep, booming voice that I always imagined would be fit for a wizard, he would weave the story together complete with rich imagery and hand gestures when words failed him. He has been a part of several battles in the past few decades, and hearing him relive the glory – and grief – of those days always held my rapt attention. I thank him for my love of faerie tales.

My mother was a petite redhead – an unheard-of rarity in our culture. It was not uncommon for passerbys to stare openly when she would be outside with the laundry or shopping in the city. Her bright, green eyes oft flashed with mirth – or fire, depending on the situation. Her temper was frequently provoked, causing strife between my family and her equals. Few dared provoke her wrath and fewer still called her friend for that very reason. She was not unlovable – just…very hard to get along with long-term. With that said, Father's relationship with her was rarely peaceful. Do not misunderstand: she loved him dearly and he was quite fallen for her…but her temper and his short fuse did not produce a serene environment.

My homelife was not rough or tumultuous to be precise, but to say that the household was tranquil is nowhere near the truth. With two hot-headed parents and a docile child who managed to keep her head down, life was far from dull. Because Mother and Father were often fighting over matters as daft as a out-of-place broom or as vital as the income from that season's crops, I quickly learned to evade such explosions by sneaking outside to curl up under the massive sycamore tree close to the cabin. Their voices carried some but it was mostly drowned out by the sounds of the night. The wind caressing my cheeks with a soft whisper…the gentle coo of a bard owl…the quiet chirruping of crickets…my young mind was awash with the beauty of it all. As I laid there, I would remember the stories my father told me – the ones where the world was at war and the gods interfered for the sake of humanity. Visions of regal kings in glittering armor and lovely queens adorned with sparkling gems and flowing gowns flooded my imagination, rendering me breathless more oft than not.

Those nights, I would lift my youthful face to the starry heavens and pray to the Valar that I may be like those in the tales and legends passed down from generation to generation; I clasped my small hands together and implored to Elbereth that she help me. I doubted she would listen to a little girl but I begged nonetheless.

Sadly, those prayers and dreams quickly dissolved into childish wishes and thus were pushed from my mind at too impressionable an age.

* * *

I was forced to grow up much sooner than I should have due to the influx of offspring. I gained twin brothers and a sister ere I reached two-and-twenty. Hulda was my little shadow the moment she could crawl, while the boys Einar and Iwar were independent from their first breath. No matter their differences, though, they were always the best of friends – and especially protective of their baby sister. Most of their battles involved saving the "princess" (simply adorned in a crown of daisies and a gown made of a discarded blanket) from the evil dragon – a part I played very well. My siblings were one of my few joys living on that desolate prairie – that and reading any and every book I could get my hands on.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

On my twenty-third birthday, as we all sat enjoying a delicious meal, my parents began to discuss my future. "Mayhaps if we make it so that you have goods to sell in the city, you may find that your prospects become more numerous," Mother suggested offhandedly as she spoon-fed Hulda.

"Mama, what goods? All my baskets and quilts are passable but not anything people would spare coin for." I sighed heavily, pushing food about my plate in a lackluster fashion.

"Well, dear, if you would spend more time perfecting the skill rather than filling your head with nonsense, those baskets might be worth something," she pointed out in a sweet but firm tone. She did not entirely approve of my voracious appetite for stories and songs.

I lifted my head and matched glares with her. "And why should that become the only reason I acquire a husband? Is it not the man's duty to seek out the woman and speak to her father regarding courtship?" I scoffed quietly and muttered, "It feels more like bribery when you put it in that way…"

I could feel her eyes growing dark but before she could retort, Father stepped in, seeking to preserve the peace. "We only wish that you would show interest in becoming a married woman. We cannot support you forever."

"But Father, I am rather young."

"No younger than your mother was when I wed her."

I huffed in frustration. "Father, I just…I do not desire marriage at this time. Apart from knowing next to no one in the area, the thought of it…" I threw up my hands and exhaled deeply. "All I wish is to have someone seek me out rather than me go running to them."

"If you insist on being so stubborn in this matter, your choice in the matter shall become rather limited." Father's tone held a note of warning. "You are now twenty-three…and such an age is prime for marriage."

Already aggravated to the breaking point, I foolishly lashed out, caring not whom my words would offend. "Is it so difficult to understand that I wish to enjoy what is left of my life ere I part my legs for some hay-gatherer?!"

Suddenly, a sharp crack! echoed in the small space and my face smarted and flushed. As I cradled my burning cheek, my father, enraged by my vulgarity, abruptly rose and roared, "How DARE you address me so, _CHILD_! You are MY daughter and you have NO RIGHT to disgrace my livelihood in the presence of your family! I regret that I ever told you those faerie stories – they have filled your head with foolish notions and childish fancies! You are _NOT_ destined to become a princess, nor are you going to be a savior of nations! You are a woman and you will become the wife of the man I choose! _**IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!**_"

Silence rang in my ears; my brothers, frightened by their father's violent outburst, scooted down in their chairs while Hulda covered her face with her chubby hands and uttered not a sound. I glanced at the remainder of my family, shaking and breathing heavily from the heat of the moment. I had never been so bold or so brash and I too was very afraid of my father. His eyes were dark with rage and his face crimson and taut. I nodded once, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched.

He stepped away from the table, visibly calming but still a dangerous look in his brown stare. "Upon the morrow, I shall speak with several of our neighbors and discuss a potential courtship," he hissed, fists clenching at his sides. "You will also spend no more time concocting faerie stories or singing ballads – but rather helping your mother and learning all that you can. By the next moon, I intend to have you being courted, if not promised. I _will __not_ support your daydreaming while you are fit to be a proper wife and mother." With that, he exited the house, slamming the wooden door behind him.

Not waiting to be scolded, I excused myself and rushed to my small room. I closed the door softly and fell atop my bed, sobbing profusely. Never had I felt so ashamed and afraid: ashamed because I had attacked the dignity of my father's profession; and afraid because I did not desire to be named the wife of a farmer. I yearned for something more – to be given the chance to alter the course of my life. I knew I had not adequately relayed that to my family, else the discussion would not have ended so aggressively. _Or would it had come to the same conclusion just with a different reason?_ my subconscious questioned.

For whatever reason, I knew I could not remain if I had any intentions of following through with my plan to become something better. Wiping tears from my eyes, I rummaged about until I found my leather saddle bag. I packed my knife, skinning tools, waterskin, and two extra pairs of socks. I gathered my cloak and shoes, placing them under my bed for later, and set about preparing myself for travel. My long, chestnut brown hair was twisted into a long braid and I slipped into my best chemise and workdress – a simple gown the color of flax. I leapt into bed and curled up under the covers, adjusting myself so that it appeared I was in deep sleep if anyone should come to check on me.

There I waited for what seemed an eternity, barely breathing and not moving at all. I heard my father reenter and talk to my mother in low tones ere they sent the children to bed and retired themselves. When my fathers' snores were the only sound in the house, I noiselessly climbed out of bed and pulled on my shoes and donned my cloak, clasping it at my throat. I carefully opened my door and slipped into the kitchen to stuff my bag with whatever travel-handy food I could come across; I ended up with a few biscuits, an assortment of dried game, and some leftover fruit from dinner. Filling my saddlebag to the brim, I tossed it over my shoulder and headed for the door.

I paused, hand on the latch. My mind was at war; half of me wanted to stay and sort matters out, and the other half urged me to travel into the unknown. Glancing toward the back rooms, I murmured, "Forgive me, Einar, Iwar, and Hulda…I never meant to hurt you. Mother, Father…I hope you understand. I..I love you."

Before I lost my resolve, I slipped out the door and lowered the hatch into place, stealing away into the night.


	3. Into the Wild

**Chapter II**

** Into the Wild**

I traveled north all through the night, keeping hunkered down as a precaution. I was tempted with the idea of taking refuge in the nearby town and sleeping there, but I knew I could be discovered on the morrow and be forcefully returned home; thus, I kept to the prairie, cursing its lack of trees that offered better stealth.

Dawn broke all too soon and flooded the plains with sunlight, coloring the remaining clouds brilliant hues of lush orange and vibrant cherry; against the dark blue sky still clinging to night's embrace, it was a sight to behold. I dragged my heavy feet towards a gurgling creek just under a patch of thick, oak trees. Relishing the shade, I pushed my waterskin beneath the surface, the coolness sending a chill through me. I coaxed the air out of the leather pouch, testing its fullness every so often with a gentle squeeze; all the while, my eyes were shifting about continuously and my ears honed in to every sound. I had heard stories of wild dogs attacking travelers – even in broad daylight – and even though it was highly unlikely that I would encounter them, I still felt vulnerable with only my small dagger to protect me. To make matters worse, I was quite exhausted; if there had been trees far enough away to avoid getting happened upon by Father, I would have taken a nap. Sadly though, the creek was too close to the house for me to feel comfortable putting my guard down. With a sigh, I lifted the flasket out of the water and corked the top, sucking the excess from the sides ere throwing it over my shoulder. _This is going to be a long journey indeed…_

* * *

The sun mercilessly beat down upon my back, and by midday, I was drenched in sweat and even the slightest effort felt as though I were attempting to run in water. I gasped and groaned, unused to such strenuous travel in the severe heat. Every step was torture and each breath seared my throat. My original intention was to ration water, but with creeks few and far between and the weather as it was, my water flask was soon dried and my throat parched to the point of almost closing off entirely. I would find shade and take refuge when possible; at times, if I found some moist soil under a cropping of rocks, I would press it against my lips in hopes it would relieve some of the chapping.

By nightfall of the second day, I feared that I would slip away ere break of day. My limbs screamed in protest no matter how small the movement and my lungs burned with a fire fierce, threatening to engulf my insides. With a breathy grunt, I collapsed alongside a massive boulder grouping, shivering uncontrollably; I was not cold yet my body trembled as though a storm raged within me. Rolling onto my back, I stared up at the inky heavens in speechless awe of its beauty and its million winking lights. With great ease, I pointed out the constellations of the Elves, Men (the same as the _edhellen_ but named differently according to their mythology), and Dwarves – the last being only a few, since their interest of the skies was substantially less than the first two. The brilliance of the twinkling firmament that hung delicately above my upturned face filled me with wonder and brought tears to my eyes.

I inhaled deeply, only for my throat to tie itself in knots and constrict, choking me. Feeling all hope abandon my weakening spirit, I closed my eyes and rasped rather than said a quiet prayer: "_Ai Elbereth Gilthoniel_, Lady of the Stars and Hearer of Arda's Children…if you still can hear me…please help me. I beseech you, my Lady, to hear my words and save me…pity me – a foolish mortal…please….help…." Over and again, my desiccated lips formed the last two words until sleep took me.

I awoke later that night with a start. Still groggy, I lazily lolled my head in a semicircle, seeking out that which stole me from my sleep. The night was now starless, and the moon had vanished behind a thick layer of clouds, while the grasslands merely swayed in the gentle breeze. A low grumble resonated in my ears, inciting fear in my raging heart. Slowly reaching for my knife, I pushed myself to my feet, teetering unstably while still glancing about with dread heavy on my mind.

Again, I heard the noise…though now it sounded more like…

_No…it could not be…_

Hoping against hope, I lifted my eyes to the darkness above me; to my utter shock and disbelief, I saw a spark of light dance across the clouds, disappearing almost as soon as it appeared. Moments later, the growl that I mistook for an animal broke the silence, ripping through the air like a whip. I felt a sob rise in my throat when the first drop splashed onto my cheek.

And then the heavens opened and poured down upon me.

I laughed deliriously, lifting my hands and gulping frantically. With shaking hands, I pulled the cork out of my arid flask and started draining the surrounding rock impressions, still cackling like a mad person. My mind spun feverishly, slowly making sense of exactly what had happened: the Lady Varda had heard me. The half-hearted words of a fading runaway had touched her heart and she had helped me! I was voiceless with emotion.

Emboldened by what seemed to be the Valar's blessing on my journey, I cried out in a quavering voice, "_Hannon le, hirilnin! _[Thank you, my lady] _Hannon le! Hannon le!_" My tears of relief mingled with the downpour and drenched me completely; I cared very little that I was soaked to the bone. I danced giddily with my hands and face uplifted, nearly insane with joy. This temperament – and storm – lasted for the good part of an hour before tapering off to a gentle drizzle. I finally filled my waterskin and corked it, still giggling uncontrollably. Snuggling against the boulder, I nodded off and knew no more until the sun rose and roused me from my deep, peaceful slumber.

* * *

The next several days proved to be far less trying than the first. I started to observe my surroundings, checking for water sources and taught myself how to trap small game; thankfully, due to my mother's teaching, I already knew how to skin and prepare my catch. I tried to keep track of the days, but after the fifth morning, I lost count. My skin darkened and my hair lightened from prolonged exposure to the bare sun; should I had come upon anyone on my travels, I was certain I would have seemed as one of the Rohirrim. With each passing day, my endurance and resolve strengthened. Even though I was leagues away from home, I still felt wary about entering any villages; I knew not whom I would encounter. I had come so far already without being detected and I had no intention of leaving a trail now. I decided to wait until I reached the north eastern bank of the River Anduin before thinking about mingling with society.

I had been blessed by the Valar – and suddenly it seemed that they withdrew their approval.

My leather flask one day ripped on a hidden rock on the river bank and thus was rendered unusable. My skinning tools went missing, and my cloak blew away when a storm disrupted my nighttime encampment. All I had left to my name was my dress, my boots (which now had several holes in the bottoms), and my dagger, now tied to my hip with a bit of rope fashioned from the long grasses of the Wold. Food was at an all-time low, but thankfully, I was approaching the River Anduin and once I made a fishing rod, I would not have to worry about food or water for a very long time.

If only I knew where exactly I was going.

My determination, once cemented, now weakened by the hour. Once I reached the river, what then? Would I become a Wildling and live off the land like an animal or a hermit? Even if I followed the river north, I would be passing through dangerous country. The Elves of Lothl_ó_rien were not a very amiable sort and did not take kindly to arbitrary mortals wandering about in their fields. And what of my decision? _How is living on the river banks and prowling the area for game any better than where I was? I sought to further my life, not stunt it. _I knew I was merely circling back to the beginning: to that little thatched farmhouse on a hill, surrounded by animals and acres of wheat, where I would birth children and become old. _No…no I will not. Something will happen…_

And something indeed happened.

* * *

Sundown approached and I was more than ready for a respite. Huddling in the shadow of a hill, I built a small fire; it was late summer when I first ventured out and now it felt that winter was coming. The winds were brisker than before, the sun paler than I remembered, and the air more dry and chill. With a sinking heart, I realized my traveling would only become more difficult once winter set in – all the more reason to reach a decision.

As I sat, teeth chattering so violently that I bit my tongue thrice, I heard a low growl. In the darkness, a pair of golden eyes flickered to life; they stared at me with such hatred and malice that my heart stopped. The eyes bobbed as the creature approached me, hunkered low and snarling; it was a rogue wolf, possibly a former alpha male that had been driven from the pack. His fur was patchy and I could see his ribs expanding and contracting with every ragged breath. He glowered darkly at me and stalked closer, clearly intending to fatten himself up by devouring me.

I held my ground and slowly drew my dagger, back stiff and chin lifted. _Maybe if I show it that I am not something to be trifled with, it will leave me alone._ I had no such luck; the wolf saw me as a challenge and dropped lower to the ground, ready to pounce. I rose and also crouched, poised to attack.

With a low roar, the wolf lunged and buried his teeth in my shoulder, eliciting a cry of pain from me. The monster pulled at my muscles and shook his head, reminding me of a dog playfully yanking at a rope. Stunned by its ferocity, I did not move when his dirty, mangy claws dug into the tender skin of my belly, ripping my dress. I pushed it off and tried stabbing at it, only for the beast to swat my knife away and make another attempt at ripping my throat out. Suddenly, its dry, sniveling snout was pressed against my nose and its teeth bit down rapidly, its tongue flicking out. His claws once again found themselves raking across my sides, his low growls sounding like war drums in my sensitive ears.

It was then that I realized he was dying; his attacks were desperate, irrational. There was nothing methodical or strategical about his movements. _Very unlike a former alpha. _Kicking his surprisingly light body off of me, I punched its jaw, grimacing as it yelped in pain. Not waiting for it to muster the strength to lunge again, I kicked his belly and jumped on him, wrapping my arms around its neck and tightening. The alpha flailed and snarled...all to no avail. He whimpered his last after several moments, his body twitching and then becoming still.

I clutched my shoulder as blood spurted and trickled down my arm. I ripped the hem of my dress and made a makeshift bandage, awkwardly tying the edges and moving my arm to check for further adjustments. When it felt minorly comfortable, I attempted sleep once more, curling up against the rock.

The next morning, I awoke to a burning sensation. Upon further inspection, I saw that my would was full of dirt and saliva – a fact I had foolishly not attended to last night because of the extreme duress. Cursing my incompetence, I hurriedly cleaned what I could and rebandaged it a bit more gingerly than previously. I rose to my feet and promptly felt dizzy – clearly not a good sign.

I stumbled on for about a few hours before I noticed that the strips of cloth covering my wound…were caked with blood. I stared blankly at it for several moments before falling to the ground with a moan, the horizon spinning and twirling. _You stupid child…you thought that leaving would instantly mean your life would be simpler? Foolish…you left home – only to die here. _ With a wavering sigh, I closed my eyes against the bitter wind and knew no more.


	4. Curious Developments

**A/N: **I am purposefully switching to third person to help flesh out the story and its characters. I initially wrote in first person to help you readers bond with my character; now it seems relevant to transfer POVs so not just one side of the story can be known. I hope y'all like it. Enjoy! :)

* * *

**Chapter III**

** Curious Developments**

Her world was dark – dark and cold. Not the cold that comes from being chilled. The sort of cold she felt was the chill of death lingering, pawing at her, hissing her name. It seemed as though bony fingers caressed her neck and a raspy chuckle tickled her ear. _"Come, dear one…cease this and surrender to me,"_ the voice purred, seeming to wrap her in an icy embrace. Crazed with fear, she struggled hard to break free of the intangible prison, only to find the shadows pressing down harder and the voice becoming more insistent and less coaxing.

Yet sometimes, the apparition that held her hostage would snarl at some unknown assailant and slink away into the gloom, and suddenly the world around her changed. Streaks of light pierced the suffocating black and the soft murmur of voices wafted about her, unintelligible but soothing in nature. The pressure on her chest would lift and her eyes would not be so very heavy. All she saw, though, were colors and vague shapes: a splash of crimson mingled with a smattering of green…a dark head – no, two, hovering above her and speaking in voices she could not understand…a flash of gold coupled with a reddish brown...

Every now and again, hands would cradle her face or stroke her shoulders, the deep murmurs calming her fears and filling her with peace. Sadly, though, the moments when she was free of the despair were few and far between, for the darkness very rarely allowed such breakthroughs. But each time she experienced the dark-headed strangers, the hold that the shade had on her weakened and her resolve intensified over time. Eventually, she realized that if she fought the darkness when in the presence of the "others", as she called them, it was easier to resist and the weight of the shade was less and less with each attempt.

After a short time, she started to make out the words: _"Fight it…do not let it take you over. You are stronger than it is…come back…" _ Their encouragements resonated within her soul, cajoling and alleviating her trepidation. The shade tried its best to deafen her to their words, but already, a seed of hope had been planted in her heart – and with a little hope, anyone could move mountains.

Or defeat the shadow of death.

Steeling herself, she heaved mightily against the weight upon her breast; it fought her efforts, but she did not relent. Rather, her tenacity intensified. _By the light of E__ä__rendil and the strength of the Valar, you shall not have me! _she cried silently, putting all her remaining strength into long last, after an arduous struggle against the malevolent apparition, she wrestled free of its grasp and finally found the strength to move her limbs and open her eyes.

What she found rather puzzled her.

She had been laid upon a heavily padded cot under a thick canopy of trees cloaked in various shades of red and yellow. Beyond her feet gurgled a wide river; its banks were strewn with pebbles and leaves. To her left a small fire crackled and popped, sending tiny specks of light into the air only for them to wink out of existence mere moments later. Two packs stuffed to near bursting lay off to the side of the fire, their contents spilling out onto the riverbank; nearby lay two pallets identical to hers in both size and make. One look-around verified that she was for the most part alone.

She moved to sit upright and cried out when her shoulder gave out; collapsing onto her bedding with a groan, she exhaled forcefully through her clenched teeth. _Damn…forgot about that. _She glanced over at it, wrinkling her nose and noting with no little surprise that her wound had been cleaned and redressed. Whoever had helped her clearly had some intentions for her – be they good or ill, she knew not. Regardless, she desired to thank those who had rescued her.

She tried sitting up again, this time using her good arm to get upright and examine her surroundings more thoroughly. Judging by the berth of the river before her, she guessed that it was the much sought-after River Anduin. Its depths were a rich jade and its limits that caressed the rocky shores were a luminescent blue. Streaks of sunlight illuminated parts of the river. The crimson and gold coverlet above her head danced in the soft wind, the leaves becoming spirits of their own accord and wafting about gaily. To any ordinary observer, this lovely autumn day exuded peace and tranquility. To a certain woman lying on the shore, it passed by nearly unnoticed, for more pressing matters were on this young lady's mind.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of light footfalls, so quiet that they were almost imperceptible. The trees about her rustled in the placid breeze, revealing naught a thing. Yet still the footsteps continued, _coming from the west,_ she ascertained. They were not heavy enough to be of Orcish origin, but too faint and weightless to be human or Dwarvish. Frowning deeply, she sat up straighter, grouping about for her little knife while keeping her eyes on the thick foliage. Becoming more panicked when there was no dagger to be found, she braced herself and fisted the blankets beneath her, trembling slightly as she prepared for the worst.

What exited the trees left her quite speechless.

The branches parted and a dark-haired Elf skidded onto the stony banks, body half-erect and grasping a long, curved blade that shone white in the light of day. His grey eyes scanned the riverbed meticulously while inching closer to her. _"Man cenich, hirilnin?" _he murmured, sparing a glance over at her. _"Caelawr le?" _ (What do you see, my lady? Are you hurt?)

Before she could respond, another Elf leapt into view – and he looked _exactly_ like the first. The likeness was almost uncanny: same hair, same eyes, same jawline. The only way to tell the difference between the two was the first had higher cheekbones and slightly fuller lips than his brother. Both looked at her and then out towards the opposite bank, searching for a hidden enemy. The first Elf crouched in front of her as the second sheathed his blade and knelt before her, resting a hand upon her knee. _"Caelawr le, hirilnin?" _(Are you hurt, my lady?)

She stared blankly at them, brows furrowed. "I…I do not…" she stammered, shrugging apologetically.

The first Elf glared at his sibling kneeling in front of her and apparently berated him in their native language, who cringed and inclined his head. "Please forgive me, my lady," he said, the words flowing from his tongue like water over a creek bed. "We believed you to be one of our kin, so similar are your features."

"No need for contrition, my lords." She waved a hand dismissively, a bit perplexed by their confusion but nonetheless flattered. "Is everything well?"

"We have kept watch these past few days after we discovered Orc tracks a few miles out." The first one spoke up, also sheathing his knife and fluidly sitting down next to his brother on her right. "I am sorry that we were not here when you awoke."

_Wait…__**days**__? _"Wh…how did you find me?"

"You were but a few miles from the river. We saw your wounds and feared you were beyond hope."

She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Forgive my , my lords, but…might I know your names?"

The Elf on the right suddenly huffed in frustration and pursed his lips, jumping to his feet. "My emphatic apologies! I am Elladan, son of Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, and it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance." He swept into the most graceful bow she had ever seen, eyes never leaving hers.

His brother rolled his eyes and pressed a hand over his heart, bowing his head. "And I am Elrohir, son of Elrond, Lord of Rivendell." He reached out and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing it lightly, also holding her gaze intently.

Realizing her mouth was ajar, she quickly closed in and nodded awkwardly, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. "I am honored, my lords." She dreaded the next question she knew was coming.

"And yours?" Elladan cocked his head slightly. "How do we call you, my lady?"

She sighed heavily and said reluctantly, "I…I have no name."

Elrohir's brow furrowed and he leaned forward. "I beg your pardon?"

"I have no name. Rather, my name is not my own."

"Well of course you did not choose it, but it _is _your name nonetheless."

She shook her head and readjusted, wincing slightly. "I was named after my ancestor Bard of Lake-town. My parents desired a son for their first child; when I was born, they decided to keep the name but give me a second to go by around others."

"And what is your second name?"

She shook her head stubbornly. "It is not my name anymore. It never was, but the person who owned such a name no longer exists. I have taken up a new name: Calimiriel." The note of finality in her tone did not go unnoticed by the Elves, who simply nodded. "Forgive my sternness, Lord Elladan and Lord Elrohir, but I wish to leave that part of my life behind me." She lifted her gaze to theirs, blue eyes apologetic and slightly chastised by her own words.

Elladan held out a hand, which she took, and helped her to her feet. "Rest assured, Lady Calimiriel, we are not angered by your words. Tis a custom for those of the _edhellen _to adopt a name different than our mother-names. My brother and I have not sought to do so for reasons quite simple: we find our names appropriate." He smiled kindly, releasing her hand and taking a step back.

Calimiriel nodded her thanks, still feeling guilty for addressing the Elf lords in such a brusque manner. Suddenly restless, she forced a bright smile and curtsied politely. "_Hannon le, hirornin _(Thank you, my lords) for saving me. Were it not for your efforts, I would most certainly be dead. I shall not keep you any longer. _Namárië, _Lord Elladan and Elrohir." She knelt down to grab her pack when a hand rested on her shoulder.

"My lady, where are you going?" One glance told her that it was Elrohir who spoke to her.

"I know not to be sure. But I set out on this journey with no genuine idea where I was heading, so I wager I will continue travelling until I find a place."

"Tis foolishness. With winter coming, you could very easily find yourself worse off than you started." Elrohir clasped his hands behind his back, disappearing under his thick grey cloak. "This may sound rather unorthodox, but would it please my lady to venture north with us to my father's home? The accommodations there would better suit your needs since you are still not completely well." His radiant grey eyes seemed to calm her anxious spirit.

She seemed torn for several moments and for a brief time, the twins feared that she would refuse them. A quiet sigh escaped her lips and her hands fell heavily to her side. "To deny such a courteous offer would be foolish of me – especially when it comes from the lips of two Elf lords. I shall journey with you." She smiled inwardly when their ivory faces lit up with relief. _Like little children they seem, but surely they must be far older than their countenances betray._

Elladan bowed deeply. "My fair lady…I speak for me and my brother when I say that we are thrilled for you to accompany us." His words, though formal and reserved, had an undertone of barely-contained excitement.

"Indeed, Lady Calimiriel…we _are_ honored," Elrohir agreed, a ghost of a smile on his full lips. Noticing that she was starting to sway, he stepped to her side and helped her lie down once more. "Rest now, for in the morn, we continue onward to Imladris."

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you for sticking with this! I know the first few chapters were dull and one-sided, but I hope this makes up for it. Again, thank you so much! Your reviews are so welcome. :)


	5. To New Beginnings

**Chapter IV**

** To New Beginnings**

The morning dawned bright and clear; the wispy clouds dissipated into the fading night and bade farewell to the vanishing stars. A gentle breeze from the west caressed the trees and danced on deeper into the forest. Leaves of gold, crimson, titian, and amber swirled in response, lifting into the air and following the West Wind whilst singing in their soft, rustling whispers. The river's own soothing murmurs joined in, and the once-quiet encampment was now alive with nature's many voices. Such an sight was so invigorating that the Elf that stood watch found himself overwhelmed by the very tactile feeling of creation's joy.

Elrohir shifted his stance as he observed this performance. He let his long, pale fingers drift over the shaft of his recurve bow absently, his grey eyes trained on the opposite bank. Last night had passed uneventfully but that did not stay the feeling of foreboding in his heart. The Elf and his brother had spent a good part of the eventide deep in discussion over the matter of the young Calimiriel. Her presence proved to be a great joy for the twins – but also a problem.

_"Brother, have you any sense?" Elrohir ran a hand through his ebony hair and sighed, his gaze agonized. _

_ "I have plenty, Elrohir," Elladan answered calmly, hands clasped in his lap and back arrow-straight. He met his twin's stare evenly. "I know it is a rather rash decision – and made without counsel – but brother, what are we to do? Leave her and let the Wild do with her what it wishes? Look at her hands." He gestured to the woman's slumbering form curled up by the fire. "Smooth and soft like those of our kin…she has not seen hard work beyond that of basket-weaving, needlepoint, and at the very most milking. Those are not the hands of a working woman who knows how to fight and survive." _

_ "She has lasted thus long – three months on the plains is no small feat for a woman with no true training," pointed out Elrohir. _

_ Elladan exhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. "I am fully aware. Most vexing are your attempts at ridding us of her." _

_ "You would believe that I would cast her out like a disobedient dog? Brother, you offend me! I merely wish to make it known that bringing a woman – a mortal woman we know naught of – to Imladris is worthy of some derision on the behalf of our father."_

_ "He welcomed Estel readily enough." _

_ "You know the circumstances concerning that matter, Elladan. Comparing her to Estel is discourteous to the latter." _

_ "Then WHAT would you rather us do?!" Their twin gazes danced in the firelight and their bearing mirrored each other: stiff and unyielding. Only a quiet sigh from Calimiriel eased their tempers and drew their eyes away. They both looked at her and sighed together. They continued their dispute in hushed tones._

_ "If we bring her to our home, we jeopardize much, Elrohir. But is it not worth the risk knowing we saved her from a grim, short life upon the moor?" _

_ "But what of our father? Brother, you refuse to address that very important detail! What will he say or do when he sees that we have brought in a stray?" _

_ "He will not turn her away. Tis not his disposition." He quickly added as Elrohir cast him a knowing look, "But his opinions will not remain unspoken, no…your words, though, surmise that he has no tact or heart." _

_ "On the contrary…he is much in heart but stern in manner, this you know. But he will not look kindly upon our assumptions." _

_ Elladan finally threw up his hands and huffed irately. "We will concern ourselves with his judgment when the time is right. For now, we must look to the road. Our journey will be lengthened by at least a fortnight with an injured companion." _

_ "Nay, I will carry her if need be. Rest, brother. I shall take tonight's watch." Elrohir smiled faintly as his brother grasped his arm tightly in thanks before walking to his cot and lying down upon it. _

Elrohir's reverie of the previous night's exchange was interrupted by a subtle moan. He turned to find the young woman stretching and yawning daintily; dark lashes framed her pale sapphire eyes which blinked lazily and squinted. "My lord…did I sleep too long?" she slurred, still wrapped in sleep's numbing embrace.

"No indeed, Lady Calimiriel, you are just in time to see the dawn." His lips curved into a gentle smile as he stepped to her aid in rising. "How found you the night?"

"Peaceful, my lord. I am well rested." She beamed brightly and swept into an untrained but fluid curtsey. "By your leave, I shall journey forth with you." He found her attempt at formality quite witty, and though he tried to avoid expressing his mirth, a wayward smile betrayed his thoughts. "Something amuses you, my lord?"

"Only that you persist in omitting my name from your address. I am Elrohir, my lady." His smirk waxed more pronounced at the mystified look upon her face. "Indeed, my brother and I are so alike in feature that very few can tell us apart; even our father stumbles now and again."

Calimiriel blushed faintly and lowered her eyes. "I do ask your pardon, Lord Elrohir: I did not mean to offend."

"No offense taken, my lady." The Elf took her hand and lightly kissed it to show he was not displeased. "If you will excuse me…I must waken my brother. When the sun is fully arisen, we shall set off."

* * *

The day passed without incident, much to the relief of the Elven twins. Their female companion proved to be far easier to transport than previously anticipated: she discovered at the start of their trek that her wounds had healed rather well for four days' time, therefore she was able to walk on her own for quite a distance. They covered roughly around ten leagues (four of which Calimiriel was carried due to exhaustion) before setting up camp for the night.

"Where are we, my lord?" Calimiriel asked as she walked up to the semi-circle, arms full of dry sticks. Both lifted their heads and glanced at each other. She could not help but snigger at their confusion. "Either one will do….forgive me, I cannot tell you apart just yet."

One beamed gaily and hopped to his feet. _Elladan. _"My lady, we are about twenty miles from the forests of Lothlórien. There, we shall gather fresh supplies and rest in safety for a night or two."

Calimiriel arched a dark brow, pausing in her task of starting the fire. "Lothlórien?" she inquired, a strangeness creeping into her voice.

Elladan frowned slightly at her sudden alteration in mood and nodded. "Indeed…it is where our grandmother lives – the Lady Galadriel and her husband Lord Celeborn."

At the sound of their names, she paled and stiffened. "If it would be possible, I would not like to enter Lothlórien, my lords Elladan and Elrohir." Her countenance was severe and her eyes were hardened with some unknown emotion.

Both stared openly at her, vaguely alarmed by her abrupt change in mood. Elrohir was the first to speak up. "But my lady…we cannot leave you here by yourself whilst we are in Caras Galadhon. The area is too dangerous."

"I care not! I have no desire to enter those woods." Abandoning her fire-making, Calimiriel stood and marched off into the nearby woods, fists clenched at her sides and back stiff.

Elrohir moved to follow her when a hand rested on his shoulder. "Let her go, brother…I wagered that her reaction would be as such. Most mortals do not think highly of Lady Galadr—" The Elf shrugged out of his sibling's grasp and started after her again.

"Elrohir, no!" Elladan raised his voice and grabbed his brother's arm more firmly. "If you show yourself the aggressor, she will just shut herself off and you will not get anywhere with your questions." He relaxed his grip as his brother stopped resisting. "I know you are concerned…as am I. Listen to me: if she wishes to discuss the matter, she will. Until then, do not press her."

"Very well…" With a reluctant sigh, Elrohir turned back to the fire and sat down.

* * *

The woods provided the soothing peace Calimiriel desperately needed. The sound of the river to the east and the faint caress of the wind upon her cheek calmed the frightened lady's throbbing heart and strained breath. She pressed a hand to her heart and struggled to inhale, only to find that her chest had constricted so powerfully that she was utterly winded. Falling to her knees, she gasped frantically, right hand clawing at her chest and her left fisted in the grass. _GATHER. YOUR. SENSES! _ _You are a grown woman! Cease these childish antics! _ Her attempt at motivating herself out of panic proved to be less than successful. She had become so undone by emotion that a quest for the river was instigated. Foolish as it may have been, the desire for a private swim proved too powerful.

Dodging the trees and protruding rocks, Calimiriel walked gracefully through the forest, her chestnut brown hair flowing loose and her grey dress rippling at her feet. The stroll itself assuaged some of her panic: the wind combing through her dark tresses…the warm sun lightly caressing her brow…the leaves beneath her feet crunching softly with every step…it was mere moments before she reached the eastern-most banks of the Nimrodel ere it joined with the Anduin. No time was wasted in the partial disrobing; wearing only her underdress (which served as a thin veil that draped over her pale body), Calimiriel waded into the depths, feeling her spirit wax tranquil . She dove beneath the river with little effort, gliding through the water like a mermaid. A peaceful sigh escaped her parted lips upon resurfacing. The manner in which the river clung to her offered a strange feeling of serenity…

Elrohir peered out towards the river from the safety of the surrounding trees. He had followed her against his brother's insistence, fearing that in her panic she would do something imprudent and potentially put herself in danger. When he had finally caught up to her, the last thing he had expected was to see her quite nearly naked in the waters of the Nimrodel. A dark blush colored his ivory cheeks as he quickly glanced away.

Meanwhile, Calimiriel ran her hands through her darkened hair, thoroughly content and utterly blissful. Her fears and worries were but a faint memory. For the moment, she was at peace. Cutting through the current like a knife, she burst forth from the deeps and waded to shore, letting her hands skim the surface whilst exiting. She hid behind a pair of trees and wiggled out of her thin underdress, twisting and wringing it out. Elrohir heard the commotion and looked once more – only to have the blush spread to his neck and his eyes widen. With the absence of the shift, the unfortunate Elf had the pleasure of seeing Calimiriel nude. Finding it impossible to maintain a chivalrous composure under such dire circumstances, the Elf silently raced about half a mile southwest towards their camp ere turning and travelling back; this time, however, he began calling her name out quietly.

Calimiriel's head lifted at the sound of her name. Grabbing her gown, she quickly pulled it over her head and smoothed out the skirt. "My lord!" she answered, hurriedly tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears in an attempt to look more presentable than she felt.

Elrohir stepped into view, appearing more subdued than was typical of him. "Forgive me…I wished to assure myself of your safety. You rushed off in such a state…"

She lowered her gaze, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. "Yes….I do ask your pardon for that…embarrassing outburst. I allowed my emotions to take over."

"I understand, my lady. Tensions are high…" The Elf took a seat upon a flattened boulder and patted the ground next to him. "Do you wish to discuss it?"

Calimiriel opened her mouth to protest, but at seeing the look of genuine concern on his face, she relented and accepted his hand, fluidly dropping to the ground and crossing her legs. "I know not what invoked such a reaction…I did not – do not – feel such about you two."

"My lady, do not stress about it. If I understand aright, in your culture, we are seen as sorcerers and witches – the Lady of Lothlórien especially. "

"….And you are not offended?"

"Why would I be? I will confess that when you expressed your vehement aversion of our plan, I was alarmed…but only because I was concerned about your comfort. This entire excursion has proved trying for you; I do not refer to the joining of our companies but the three month journey you made ere we found you." He reached over and rested a hand on her knee. "I understand that you are afraid of our kind and that the only reason we are the exception is due solely to the fact that we proved reliable from the start. Trust us, my lady…we will not allow harm to come to you."

Calimiriel inhaled deeply. "But are they true?" Elrohir's brow furrowed in confusion. "The stories…are they accurate?"

"Regarding what, my lady?"

"Lady Galadriel being a sorceress. "

The Elf's furrowed brow smoothed out and his shoulders straightened. "My lady, I assure you, we are not what you call 'sorcerers'. That word is something we do not understand….the thing you call 'magic' is more closely defined as the works of the enemy. The Elves are oft thought of as 'enchanters' but I do not understand even then…"

Now she felt properly abashed. "I do ask your pardon, my lord. I sound rather foolish and ignorant."

"My lady, I do not hold it against you." To alleviate the somberness, Elrohir hopped to his feet and swept into a lordly bow. "Your sins are forgiven," he proclaimed in an exaggerated tone of chivalry. "Fear not mine wrath." The laugh he had hoped to elicit fell from her lips; it remind him of the trickling of water over rocks.

As they chuckled and got to their feet, neither of them saw the figure amidst the forest gloom: a tall, slender outline clad in the hues of the trees with ebony hair and eyes the color of twilight. The eyes watched the two intently with an unknown emotion; when Elrohir and Calimiriel turned their back to the river and began their journey to the camp, the shadow was gone.

Its fleeting presence did not go completely unnoticed by the Elf.

* * *

**A/N: **okay sooooo...hoping this ending doesn't piss y'all off. Speaking the honest truth here - I have no idea where that sentence about the figure came from. As Tolkien would say, "It wrote itself". BUT...I have a plan. I don't want to upset my fans but I am making a change: I am taking Glorfindel off the OC pairing list. Reason being...I don't want to force the mortal/Elf pairing especially when Tolkien has it mentioned only three times in his legendarium. Soooooo...that's why. I hope I don't lose any readers, but please know that I'm only trying to keep true to Tolkien's works. Thank you so much for giving my story credence and [hopefully] enjoying it.


	6. Lands of a Mysterious Nature

**Chapter V**

** Lands of a Mysterious Nature**

Calimiriel wiped her brow for what seemed to be the hundredth time that afternoon. _It seems counterintuitive to perspire in weather as cool as this…how I envy the Elves_, she muttered to herself with a dark glare at the twins in front of her. For two straight days now, the three had been travelling with little to no rest – all to halve the estimated seventy-mile venture to the fringes of Lothlórien. She was strong enough to make the trek, but with lack of sleep, her energy was swiftly waning. The scenery swayed and dipped precariously. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps and her vision swam. Her limbs felt light and weak and her heart thumped painfully in her throat.

Elladan glanced to his left upon hearing a twig snap and suddenly halted when he saw Calimiriel struggling. "My lady!" he exclaimed, hurrying over and grabbing her shoulders. He sighed angrily when she met his gaze unsteadily. "_Goheno nin_ (Forgive me)! I knew not that you were so weary." Ignoring her weak protests, the Elf nobly swept her into his arms and proceeded to carry her to the nearest clearing. His brother jogged along beside him, worry marking his fair brow.

"Please, my lords…forgive my weakness," Calimiriel moaned as Elladan laid her down on the soft grass, falling silent when the Elf placed a finger over her lips."Lady Calimiriel, you have naught to ask forgiveness for – it is we who should ask for _your _ pardon. We were so consumed in our quest to reach Lothlórien before dusk that we gave no thought to your condition." He grimaced apologetically as he reached into his pack for a cloth. Elrohir leaned down and whispered something to his brother, breaking into a sprint as Elladan nodded.

"Where is he going?" she murmured faintly, eyes fluttering.

"Fret not, my lady…he is going to scout the area and see if Lórien's borders are as close as we suspect." Moistening the cloth with water from his canteen, Elladan lightly bathed her forehead and neck. "Do your injuries trouble you?"

"No, my lord…I only have difficulty breathing." Her fingers found her flask and started to uncork it when the Elf stopped her. He cradled her in one arm and brought the mouth of the waterskin to her lips, tilting it forward as she drank with great alacrity.

A faint sound caught Elladan's attention; glancing over his shoulder, he saw in the dim of the woods many figures clad in grey moving quickly through the trees. Their faces were shadowed but he could see that silver hair peeked out from beneath the hoods in all save one. The Galadhrim had arrived.

The Elf gently laid Calimiriel down and rose to greet them as they approached. "_Suilaid, Haldir, hirnin. Sutamin?" _(Greetings, my lord Haldir. How fare you?)

The lead Elf stepped forward and bowed, removing his hood as he stood erect once more. Eyes the color of starlight gazed solemnly upon the firstborn of Lord Elrond. He responded in the Silvan tongue, "I am well, Lord Elladan. Lord Elrohir we found on the edges of our borders requesting our presence here." He ceased speech when his roving stare rested upon young Calimiriel.

Seeing this, Elrohir stepped forth and answered his unspoken question in their native tongue. "Our newest companion, Calimiriel. She was found on the plains of Limlight, and there we brought her back to health. She journeys with us to Imladris."

"For what purpose, pray tell?" inquired Haldir, arching a dark brow curiously.

Here, Elrohir faltered briefly. "The decision was made in concern of her wellbeing. She has been injured and is in need of more skilled attention than what we here can give her. Perhaps, may it be administered by your physicians? We are also in need of supplies and advice from her Lad—"

Haldir stiffened and raised a hand silently. "I intend no disrespect or ill-will, but I cannot with good conscience allow a mortal into Lothlórien, Elrohir of Imladris. His Lord and Her Ladyship would not look kindly upon welcoming a Secondborn into our sacred realm. Please forgive me."

As the Elves conversed obdurately, Calimiriel propped herself up and stared directly at Haldir, addressing him in the Common Tongue. "My lord Haldir," she declared, silencing the whispered clamor, "I am aware that this entire conversation is probably concerning my entering your land. Allow me first to ask your pardon for intruding; I am well aware that my presence is troubling. Secondly, I relieve my companions of their stress: I understand the inviolability of Lothlórien and that should I enter your land, I would desecrate it with my mortality. Thus, I implore that I end the controversy and remain outside the borders so that the lords Elladan and Elrohir may move about without hindrance." She then looked to Elrohir and nodded, indicating that she wished her words to be translated.

"My lady Calimiriel, be not distressed." Haldir's somber lips twisted into a faint smile at her surprise as he spoke to her in Westron. "You assume correctly, but do not believe our decision to be one of animosity. We welcome you kindly to our kingdom – but you must go no further than the portico you will see upon our arrival."

"My lord, I am at your mercy. Allow me to rise and give you proper respect." Calimiriel pushed herself to her feet and gave a slow, awkward curtsey, head inclined and eyes lowered.

Haldir waved his hand dismissively and approached her. "Such mannerisms are not necessary here, my lady." He pressed a hand to his breast, bowed his head, and straightened up. "Here, we are all equals." He grasped her hand and kissed it lightly. "I am indeed most sorrowful that you are prohibited from entering our lands and seeing the beauty that lies therein. Rest assured, you will be cared for whilst your companions are away." With a wave of his hand, two Elves with the same hoary hair and silver eyes stepped forth. "These are my brothers, Rúmil and Orophin. They do not speak your language but will serve as your protectors for the moment."

"I am indebted to you, my lord," Calimiriel said, inclining her head reverently.

"There is no such debt, my lady. If you would pardon our eagerness…she is waiting." With another bow, he and the twins joined the Elven party walking back into the trees. Rúmil and Orophin waited as she gathered her things and followed after them.

* * *

The first thing she saw was the entrance. Two young birch trees clothed in pale yellow blooms bowed into themselves and intertwined their branches to form a seamless arch above the walkway. Beyond there, Calimiriel could see footpaths worn into the soft earth and _flets _littering the trees with interconnecting flights of stairs – stairs which appeared woven from the very tree itself. _If this is so beautiful…I can only imagine how glorious and magnificent the rest of the realm is_, she wondered with no small awe. She would have gone on further had Rúmil not grabbed her arm and said "_Daro! _(Stop!)" in such a stern tone. Snapping out of her amazement, Calimiriel gave a sheepish smile and took a few steps back.

Elladan and Elrohir glanced back with an apologetic look. "I hope you are not angry with us, my lady."

"Indeed not, Lord Elladan. I understand the rules and I must abide by them. Surely, you do not believe that I blame you two for this…"

"Not directly, no," Elrohir amended, "but we _were_ the ones who insisted we come thus to Lórien."

"To shoulder you with unnecessary guilt is cruel and foolish," scoffed Calimiriel with a wave of her hand. "Go forth and greet the Lady of the Wood. I shall content myself with other Elves for company ere you return." She smiled as she said this, but in her heart, she worried deeply about how she would handle being in the presence of Elves who did not speak her language.

Unaware of her concerns, the twins brightened visibly and bowed simultaneously, eliciting a giggle from their companion. "As we say in our language, _namárië, hirilnin _(farewell, my lady)," Elladan proclaimed glibly, smiling as he turned with his brother and followed Haldir into the city.

* * *

Night came swiftly. Unlike the forests of the Wild, Lothlórien did not become dim and shadowed in the eventide; rather, the woodland took on an ethereal glow like that of a moon's light reflecting off a lake. Every tree and leaf was swathed in a cloak of light from seemingly no source: it just was. One glance at the inky sky told Calimiriel that the moon could not possibly be the cause of this otherworldly radiance. Whatever the reason, the young woman was too tired to investigate the matter.

The Elf Orophin had built a fire for her while Rúmil disappeared for a time, returning with a trio of rabbits which he handed to her. She skinned and spitted them expertly, secretly pleased as the Elves watched her every move with a strange fascination. _It seems that I am as interesting to them as they are to me_, she realized with a slight scoff. _How I could be this absorbing escapes me…_

Once they finished eating, the Elves stood watch on either side of their little encampment while Calimiriel laid down on her cot. She wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and closed her eyes for just a moment…

And opened them to find the Elves gone.

Calimiriel leapt up and spun around, searching for them. By the looks of it, the campsite had changed very little: the fire had died down to a glowing ember and a gentle breeze wafted about the trees. All seemed as it should…except for the fact that Rúmil and Orophin were missing.

Keeping the blanket about her shivering form, she shuffled around, looking for anything that might indicate where the Elves went. The most logical place would be back inside Lothlórien, but they were supposed to stay and keep watch over here while Elladan and Elrohir were gone. At least one of them would have stayed behind if they were needed in the city.

Something…a sound in the wind – no, _the wind itself _whispered to her. The words she could not make out at first…

_Fíriel…_

___Fíriel_, child…

"Who are you?" Calimiriel asked to the empty air, becoming a bit frightened.

_Worry not, child…you are in no danger. _It seemed to be all around her.

"Who are you?!" she repeated, her voice becoming more frantic.

_Do not be afraid, __Fíriel _of Rohan, for you are safe. 

By now, Calimiriel was panicking. "How do you know my name?!" she screamed to the silent forest, shaking and crying.

Out from the trees came a thin tendril of light….or so it seemed. The light moved in the manner of someone walking towards her; it swayed like a woman with flowing skirts. As it drew closer, she could see that it _was_ a woman – an She-Elf with long blonde hair, ivory skin, and startlingly white robes. A thin, grey cloak covered her shoulders and hooded her face. Her vivid blue eyes sparkled like the stars in the sky. Her face was serene but also somber. Those piercing eyes seemed to search her very soul. _You will not be harmed…no need to fear._

"But…who are you? How are you doing this?"

_I am who you call the Lady of the Wood. I am Galadriel. _She smiled kindly and stopped right in front of Calimiriel, hands clasped before her and demeanor peaceful.

"How…how is this possible?"

_I know much, young __Fíriel_.

"That is not what I asked….and _**how do you know my name?!**_" Calimiriel's voice rose in alarm, clearly scared of the Lady's knowledge.

_I know it because I can hear it in your thoughts…you do not abhor your name – it just does not become you the way you want it to. It reminds you of a past you wish to forget._

"No…not forget – replace. I do not hate it…I just…feel that it does not fit me."

_And Calimiriel? For someone who knows so little of our culture, it is…intriguing that you chose a name distinctly Elvish in origin. _Her gaze was not accusing but curious.

"I…it came to me in a dream," she confessed, looking vaguely embarrassed at what she felt was a ludicrous explanation. When the Lady did not speak, Calimiriel continued. "I was on the plains for what I believe was the tenth night, and all day, I was wondering what I would name myself once I reached civilization again. My given name was not one I found pleasing and it reminded me too much of my family. I slept that night and dreamed that a lady in grey…" She trailed off, eyes growing skeptical and then widening. "…you?"

Galadriel smiled charmingly. _A mortal who invokes the name of Elbereth…not an everyday occurrence, mind you. _

"No no no no no no, do not change the subject. You…_you_ spoke to me? Why?"

_You were a nameless child on the Wold and you came into my sight…_

"That does not explain why a Elven queen would even address a mortal."

_You flatter me: I am no queen, Lady __Fíriel_. I am merely the leader of my people. Lord Celeborn and I guide the edhellen under our care. 

"Please….stop calling me 'Fíriel'. I am not that person anymore…" Her eyes closed and she pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger.

Here, Galadriel moved closer and rested a feather-light hand upon Calimiriel's arm. _Do not distress, young one…your life has only just begun. 'Calimiriel' suits you quite nicely…keep it. _

"What does it mean? The name, I mean…"

_"Bright jewel"…and indeed you are. _Galadriel's smile grew ever so slightly as she squeezed her arm lightly. _You are not alone…and soon, you will not ever be. _Her face turned solemn. _I do offer a word of warning: you were raised in an environment where truth was truth and lies were lies. The world is so very different. I know you are a clever woman and you are not easily swayed by flatter, yet there are those who can find a way to dismantle your defenses and worm their way into your heart and mind. Beware of those. They come in many forms: tall and fair, short and swarthy, even crippled and repulsive. Some are easier to resist…others are much, much harder. Stay strong and rely on your friends. _

"Well then…how do I know who my friends are?"

_You can trust the sons of Elrond, young Calimiriel. But there is someone who will cross your path very soon who will shake your faith in life. Confide in only the one whom you trust entirely. _

"But….I trust both of them…"

_It is your choice whether you heed my warning or not. _

"And if I choose not to? Will I have to deal with consequences from your hand?" Her shoulders squared a bit as if bracing herself for impact.

_I do not inflict harm…whatever happens as a result of your decisions is simply the ripples in the pond of existence. You reap the benefits – or the ruins – of your choices. _Calimiriel glanced down, biting her lip nervously. _Something troubles you?_

"Naturally, yes…I was just told that if I do not regard your advice, I will meet my demise," she answered in a clipped manner.

The Lady's brows creased and her eyes darkened a bit. _I never said you would "meet your demise", as you put it; I am merely offering words of encouragement. This is a rather unsettling ordeal, leaving home. _

Sighing heavily, Calimiriel turned to her right and stared off into the dark. Her mind was conflicted: part wanted to rush back to her family and rejoin the simple, predictable lifestyle in the Eastern Emnet of Rohan….and the other half yearned to continue onward with this exciting journey to Imladris and to unknown opportunities. Each side warred within her, bringing both pain and elation. Her head bowed and eyes tightly closed, she ran a hand through her hair. She inhaled and exhaled forcefully in an attempt to clear her mind.

A few moments later, she spoke aloud. "I understand what both decisions entail and I choose to persist in the path I am on." When the Lady did not move or speak, Calimiriel glanced to her left – and realized she was once again alone.

Just as she was about to call out for Galadriel, a voice invaded her thoughts. It was muffled but clearly someone speaking. The sounds were repetitious, as if a question was being asked repeatedly…

Suddenly, she was lying down with Elladan leaning over her, gently shaking her arm. "My lady…Lady Calimiriel, are you well?" His grey eyes were dark with concern and his face was indistinctly drawn about the jawline.

Blinking feverishly and quite thoroughly confused, Calimiriel sat up and rubbed her eyes. "I…I do not know. I…I just had the strangest—" _Speak of our conversation to no one as of yet, Calimiriel of the Wild_, whispered Galadriel's voice in her head.

"….Strangest what, my lady?" inquired Elrohir, kneeling down next to his brother.

Calimiriel merely shook her head. "Just a dream about home…" she lied lamely, passing a hand over her eyes to hide her guilty countenance.

Haldir stepped up into view, holding a bolt of cloth in his arms. "The Lady Galadriel asked me to bring you these; she asks your forgiveness for not allowing you entrance to the city." He laid the bundle on her lap. Upon further inspection, the outer layer of fabric proved to be a cloak made of grey cloth and a dual-layered gown woven from dark blue silk with silver accents and long, flared sleeves. A gasp escaped her lips as she ran her fingers over the material. "I…I do not deserve such a gift, my lord. Tis too extravagant. "

"Indeed not…she insisted."

"Please give her my thanks, Lord Haldir." Calimiriel smiled amiably and nodded to the Elf.

"I shall. I must bid you farewell now. The dawn approaches and you must be off now." Haldir bowed in the manner of the Elves and turned to address the twins in Silvan. "May your paths be devoid of peril and may your journey to Imladris progress without distraction." The Elves exchanged words of parting as the small group of Galadhrim, led by the three brothers, vanished into the forest.

* * *

**A/N: **Well there you have it: another chapter. Don't worry...next chapter, I'll explain quite a bit more about who [or what] exactly was in the trees by the river. The plot sickens...er, I mean, thickens. ;) Thanks for reading! Until next time! UPDATE: did some more homework and changed Cal's name to something more historically accurate.


	7. Unexpected Discoveries

**Chapter VI**

** Unexpected Discoveries**

The dress was exquisite, to say the least. The white shift was so carefully crafted that it was impossible to find where it had been stitched together, so fine was the seamwork. Thin wisps of silver inlay were woven into the imperceptibly flared sleeves, the sides, and the scooped neckline. The gown itself was made of indigo silk also accented with the same shiny tendrils that littered the underdress. It was fitted about the waist and, when assembled, the white hem peeked out from under the dark blue, contrasting beautifully. The colors made Calimiriel's already pale skin appear waxen, her cerulean eyes extraordinarily brighter, and her tawny locks a warmer shade of russet. She twirled playfully, hands lifted above her head and eyes fixated on the skirts billowing out before her. The spiraling dance 'twixt sapphire and alabaster dazzled the eye.

Elrohir found himself oddly fascinated by her girlish antics. The way she spun about, a splash of color amidst the grey morning, stirred the heart to valor. In these times, such uninhibited joy was wanting….and her youthfulness was like water to a thirsting man. Her smile brought elation to the spirit and peace to the soul. Her ethereal gaze was like a vast ocean of bliss and her laugh could heal all the hurts of Arda. So enchanted was he by her simple beauty that Elrohir did not hear his brother's petition for notice.

"Elrohir!" Elladan gently shook his brother's arm, the Elf's mien perplexing him. "Elrohir!"

"Wha—yes?" answered the Elf brusquely, peeved that he had let his mind drift so noticeably.

"Are you well, brother?"

"Yes. Forgive me, I was preoccupied with the matters at hand…" He trailed off with another glance at Calimiriel. Lowering his voice, he continued. "I am certain that our efforts did not go overlooked by the Enemy. What if we merely brought doom to Lady Galadriel? I know our journey would have become only more perilous had we kept it but what—"

"If we persist in doubting ourselves, it will only serve to delay us," Elladan interrupted quietly. "Lothlórien is the safest place for it. To travel so far with such a volatile item would be catastrophic: you know as well as I that our adversaries are drawn to such things, and with a woman among us who knows naught of self-defense…we would only be ensuring harm to her and us." He placed a hand on Elrohir's shoulder and shook it once. "I know you were loathe to hand it over for fear of such things…but rest assured, if anyone besides our father can protect it, Lady Galadriel easily can." Glancing up at Calimiriel, he smiled slightly as she skipped about blithely. "She is lovely."

Elrohir started and pulled back slightly, staring pointedly at Elladan. Had he just said…? "Indeed so," answered the Elf slowly, still eyeing his brother suspiciously.

Elladan gave a sidelong glimpse at his brother and winked playfully, a smile pulling at his lips. "I never imagined you would fancy a mortal above our own."

Restraining the powerful urge to vehemently deny the claim, Elrohir simply shrugged. "I have not said anything on the matter. In any case, we are _peredhellen_ – we have yet to choose."

Elladan forgot his mirth and nodded, face abruptly solemn. "Verily, yes…" He ran a hand through his ebony hair and began absently twisting a lock around his index finger repeatedly. "_Ada_ does not compel us to determine our future – possibly because he assumes that we already have."

"You have not?" This was news to Elrohir. His brother was always so sure of himself and his desires; to express hesitation was unlike him.

"No. I have seen both paths, brother: the Men in their everlasting search for elongated life and painless living and the Elves in their yearning for finite life and shortened years. To trade one trouble would only mean to take on another. Either side has its disadvantages and its pleasures…to decide which is worth the consequences has proven to be far more difficult a decision than I had originally thought." He sighed wearily and stared off into the distance. "I know that becoming mortal would not ensure my place among the Secondborn with their gift of natural death. If I chose to remain an _edhel_, I would simply leave Middle-earth once I grew tired of its hurts. I am yet young in the eyes of our kin, thus my time would not come for many years. Yet…" His eyes took on a sadness rarely seen in the cheerful Elf and his shoulders slouched momentarily as his mind was weighted with the seriousness of the choice. Elrohir wordlessly rested a hand on his brother's shoulder, keenly aware of the pain he felt.

Both twins stood in silence for a few moments until their mood was broken by Calimiriel's question. "My lords…is there aught wrong?" She moved towards them, wary but concerned.

Elladan lifted his gaze and smiled gaily. "No indeed, my lady. Elrohir and I were just discussing the finer details of our remaining journey." He stepped away from his brother and moved on to his things, busying himself with strapping on his long knife.

Calimiriel looked at Elrohir skeptically, mouthing, "Did I offend?" The Elf shook his head imperceptibly before saying, "We must get ready to leave. There are many leagues left to go ere we reach Imladris. "

* * *

Three days passed and in those three days, not a soul crossed their paths. If they desired meat for evening meal, the twins traveled far for it. The wind grew stronger and more chilled, the sun shone pale in the sky, and the grass and surrounding trees went from lush and green to bare and brown. The very air Calimiriel breathed seemed charged with some unknown emotion; the bleak horizon felt eerie. She jogged up to Elrohir and murmured softly, "Where are we?"

"We are fifty miles from the Gladden Fields, my lady. Twenty miles northeast is the Drimrill Dale." Unconsciously, the Elf gripped the knife at his hip. "These are not friendly lands. We are too close to Moria and many foul things dwell there. Stay close, my lady." His steely eyes surveyed the plains before him, posture rigid and jaw tight.

When twilight approached, the twins decided to make camp in a nearby forest meadow. As Calimiriel set about skinning the two rabbits Elladan caught along the way, Elrohir pulled his brother aside and spoke with him in low tones. The young mortal strained to catch a word or two, but their voices were too soft. After a short time, they ceased their covert speech and turned to face her. "Lady Calimiriel, might we have a word with you?"

Suddenly paranoid, she rose slowly, setting her work on the ground. "Have I trespassed in some way?" she asked hesitantly.

"No! No, not at all." Elladan shook his head adamantly. "We only wish to ask if you are interested in learning how to handle a weapon. We – rather, Elrohir did – that you are untrained in self-defense, and since we are in dangerous lands, he thought it prudent that you be taught some form of fighting. Does this interest you?"

Calimiriel could hardly believe her ears."Indeed, yes!" she exclaimed happily. "I have been wanting to ask but felt it improper."

"My lady! Tis naught improper about asking such a thing. Forgive us for not seeming approachable. I knew not that we seemed so stern." Elladan looked abashed.

Calimiriel laughed and shook her head. "Never mind about that…proceed with your intended actions." She unclasped her cloak and pushed her sleeves up in preparation for instruction.

Elrohir drew his white knife and flipped it in the air, catching it by the flat of the blade and handing it over to her hilt-first. "The first thing you must learn is how to hold a weapon. Keep your hands centered on the hilt. Too low and you could get the blade knocked out of your hand with one ill-fated block; too high and you risk getting injured from your enemy or your own weapon." He nodded as she gripped the knife exactly as he described. "Very good…now…" he unsheathed his second white knife and let it hang by his side, "come at me."

She looked more than a little startled. "Excuse me?"

"Attack me."

"But…" Calimiriel floundered for a moment, afraid to hurt him – or more likely, herself. She gathered her courage and feinted to the left. When he did not move, she swung the blade to his right, intending to strike his arm. His knife stopped her in mid-descent, coming out of seemingly nowhere. In one fluid motion, he disarmed her and knocked her to the ground, kneeling over her with knife against her throat.

"You hesitated. Your enemy will not." His throat suddenly tight, Elrohir quickly got to his feet, holding out a hand to help her up. His jaw grew taut when he caught his brother's hidden smirk.

She accepted his hand with lowered eyes."I am sorry…I did not wish to hurt you."

"No need for apologies, my lady. You were unsure…I understand." Picking up the discarded knife, he handed it back to her. "Now…when you move to strike, do not spend so much time preparing. A well-trained enemy will be able to see that with little difficulty. By thinking too hard about what you will do, you give your adversary ample opportunity to take the initiative. Let him strike first, yes, but do not be afraid to take the offensive." He mock-lunged toward her, blade in the air, and slowly lowered it. She blocked it easily. "When you parry, you force him to leave other areas undefended. Take advantage of that." He used his elbow to gesture to her torso and legs. "Kick his knees hard enough and you could break them. Battle is not the time to restrain yourself." He stepped back and beckoned. "Try once more."

Calimiriel twirled her blade twice and swung it directly at his chest. When he blocked it, instead of kicking, she dropped down a bit and elbowed him squarely in the stomach, pushing him back harshly. The Elf stumbled back, taken aback by her change in demeanor. He was about to congratulate her when she let out a cry and lunged at him, swinging wildly. Elladan laughed aloud as he watched Elrohir struggle to keep up with her vicious attacks. Before he could disarm her, Calimiriel spun around him and kicked him, dropping down into a defensive stance as the Elf fell to his knees.

Quickly dropping her sword, she rushed over to help him up. "Was that good?" she started to ask but was cut off when she was pulled to the ground. The Elf grabbed her throat and pinned her, pressing a small dagger to her chest.

"Exceptional," Elrohir affirmed, smiling faintly. "My only criticism to always assume your enemy is pretending. A common tactic is to feign a fatal blow in order to invoke false victory; if you believe you have won, you will not be so careful."

With a huff, Calimiriel twisted out of his grip and got to her feet. "I promise not to duplicate such erroneous actions in battle, my lord," she muttered, embarrassed that she had overlooked so simple a thing.

"Do not be upset, my lady. I am not disappointed. You did quite well for your first attempt. Just remember to always be on guard. Assume the worst and prepare for it."

She smiled tightly and gave a shallow curtsy. "Thank you for your instruction. Shall I go get some firewood?"

Elrohir nodded once, brow furrowed. "If you wish. Take this with you." He held out the knife and scabbard, which she accepted wordlessly. He watched baffled as she strapped on the belt, sheathed the blade, and headed into the trees without so much as a backward glance.

Calimiriel marched deep into the woods, seething with rage. She was angry with herself and how she handled the mock battle. _I should have known not to go over and check! How foolish is that?! "Oh I knocked him down – let us all go and inquire after his health!" _ She punched a nearby tree whilst stomping loudly through the brush and bracken. Her anger stemmed mainly from humiliating herself in front of the Elven twins. The constant need to impress them pestered her day and night, and when her once chance came to show them that she was not some weak human, her hopes were dashed. _Look at me…getting all worried over a silly battle. _Still, she could not shake the feeling of insecurity that burrowed deep inside her. Cursing herself inwardly, she set about gathering broken branches for the fire.

A noise to her left caught her attention. It had sounded like an errant foot breaking a hidden twig. Holding her collection of firewood to her chest, Calimiriel stayed rooted in place, trembling like a leaf in the wind. Her heart pounded in her ears. She tried to scream but fear stole her voice. The footsteps resumed, drawing closer and closer…

A hand rested on her shoulder, breaking the paralyzing spell. A scream ripped from her throat as she turned and threw her armful of sticks into the face of her assailant; she managed to unsheathe the white knife and lunge at her attacker, pushing him flat on his back. Pressing the sharp edge against his throat, she stared directly into his bewildered gaze. "Who are you?" she snapped, adrenaline coursing through her.

The man lying beneath her appeared confused, vaguely frightened, and thoroughly taken aback. "My lady, I mean you no harm," he cautiously said, resting his gloved hands palm up in a sign of surrender. His shoulder-length black hair was home to bits of leaves and sticks due to being slammed onto the ground, and his goatee was littered with dirt and wood chips. His ash-colored eyes held hers calmly.

"Who are you?" Calimiriel repeated, body all atremble.

"If I may rise…"

"No! Not until you tell me who you are!"

He inhaled sharply and nodded . "Very well….I am Boromir, son of Denethor, the Steward of Gondor. I mean no harm to you."

She stopped breathing. "….Boromir?"

His brow furrowed. "Indeed…"

Within a second, Calimiriel leapt to her feet and stumbled back, quivering violently. "My lord!" she gasped, dropping into a deep curtsy. "Please forgive me…I did not know."

Boromir picked himself up carefully, feeling every injured muscle. "No apology needed…I feel terrible for scaring you so." He walked over and pulled her to her feet. "Are you all right?"

She scoffed quietly, still staring at the ground. "You ask me if I am harmed when you were the one so abruptly pushed to the ground?"

He gently tilted her chin up so that he was looking right into her frightened blue eyes. "I am not angry, my lady…but I would like to know your name." His smile was kind.

She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by hands grabbing her arms and pulling her back. Elladan and Elrohir stood in front of her, swords drawn and bodies crouched like cats ready to strike. The elder brother stepped forward, blade at his side, and inquired sharply, "Who are you?"

"I am Boromir, son of Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, and I did not intend to harm your companion, I swear it. I startled her and she reacted as anyone would." He stood askance as he observed the twins, clearly perplexed by the notion that a woman was travelling with two Elves – two Elves who looked exactly alike, no less.

Realization dawned on his face. "Ah yes…of course. Forgive me." Sheathing his weapon, the Elf swept into a regal bow. "I am Elladan, son of Elrond, and this is my brother, Elrohir."

"My lords." The Gondorian bowed deeply. "I do apologize for the intrusion. I was travelling to Rivendell when I came upon your party not a week past in the woods west of the Anduin. I contemplated making my presence known but I decided against it. We went our separate ways and I did not expect to see you again. When I happened upon the lady here, I inferred that it was fate that brought us together once more. Thus, I chose to introduce myself – and subsequently frightened her quite nearly to death." He cast an apologetic glance over Elladan's shoulder at the shaking Rohirric woman.

Elrohir straightened and stared intently at Boromir. "So it was you who were watching us at the river…" he murmured.

"You saw me? I had tried to leave before my existence was discovered…"

"I caught but a glimpse of you passing," Elrohir confessed. "Why are you journeying to Imladris?"

Here, Boromir's demeanor grew solemn. "I would rather not say while in unfriendly lands. Seeing as we are both headed to the same destination, might I suggest that we travel together?"

The twins looked at each other and Elladan shrugged. "I do not see why that would be an issue. It is a practical notion." Elrohir gave no protest. "Tis settled then."

"If you would give me but a moment…I must summon my horse." Turning away from the group, he whistled shrilly; not long after, a whinny answered him. A brown steed trotted into view, tossing its head and huffing softly. The reins hung down in front of it, dragging along the ground. It neighed happily when Boromir took hold of its bridle and scratched behind its ears. "This is Stormbane and he is capable of carrying any extra supplies."

"We carry very little, Boromir of Gondor, but you are more than welcome to ride him." Elladan beckoned as he turned. "Come…we are about to prepare evening meal. " The twins jogged on ahead, Elrohir glancing back at her before disappearing into the trees.

Boromir held out his hand once more. "I did not get your name, my fair lady."

She accepted it. "Calimiriel…Calimiriel of Rohan." It felt strange admitting her country of origin.

His lips twisted into a smile and he kissed her hand gently. "I am honored to make your acquaintance, Lady Calimiriel of Rohan." With surprising ease, he lifted her onto Stormbane and grabbed the reins. "Fret not. He is gentler than he appears."

A change came over Calimiriel: her back straightened, her chin lifted, and her eyes brightened. All the worries and cares seemed to dissipate as a smile crept onto her lips. She leaned down and caressed his neck softly. When Boromir started to lead Stormbane by the reins, the young Rohirric woman secretly kicked his sides, urging him on. The stallion balked for a moment, torn between doing as commanded and continuing with his master; one more kick answered that question.

The warhorse broke into a light gallop, dodging the trees expertly. Calimiriel heard Boromir cry out behind them and start running after. She grabbed the reins in one hand and bent over parallel to the saddle, keeping her legs pressed tight against his flanks. When horse and rider started to approach the camp, she began pulling back on the reins lightly; upon entering the meadow, she pulled harder, and the horse reared. Stormbane dropped down to all fours and snorted, prancing about in a circle. Calimiriel could not help but grin when Boromir came running up, expecting the worse – only to see his steed nuzzling her caressing hand and nickering happily.

The Elves watched as the Gondorian soldier jogged up and slowed to a stop, bewildered by this outcome. They could not help but snicker when Calimiriel glanced back at the Man and answered his unspoken question: "I am from Rohan, my lord. And he is rather aggressive in fact." Her smile grew coy as she dismounted fluidly. "You have a fine mount, Lord Boromir…I am very impressed." Curtsying once, she turned to the twins and said, "I am going back to gather more firewood. I shall not be long."

* * *

**A/N: **Got inspired so ta-daah! Another chapter! I decided to have some fun and give Cal a talent of some sorts; after all, she /is/ from Rohan, and while she was on a farm, I'm sure there were horses there she rode in her spare time. Regarding Boromir, I figured the way the timeline was progressing, if the twins are slated to arrive on the evening of October 24, in Appendix B, it says "Boromir arrives in Rivendell at night", it would be logical that mayhaps the three met up somehow. Loophole + untempered imagination = literary liberty! I have great things in store for the next several chapters, so stay tuned!


	8. Of Dreams and Daggers

**Chapter VII**

**Of Dreams and Daggers**

_She opened her eyes and all she could see was the flaxen grass of the plains. It was all around her: knee-high and endless, like a sea of wheat bending and swaying in the gentle prairie breeze. Rock outcroppings were strewn everywhere, some smaller than a wolf and others twenty feet high. The sun felt warm on her upturned face. The grass rustled and crunched beneath her bare feet, and the summer wind gently combed through her auburn tresses. The midnight blue of her gown seemed out of place amongst the savanna's hues of gold and brown, but she cared little. The brilliance of the afternoon sky, spotted with wispy clouds, took her breath away, and the simplistic beauty of the terrain invigorated her soul. She was home. _

_ Breaking into a full-on sprint, the Rohirric maiden danced across the plains, laughing loudly. She fancied she heard a gurgling creek somewhere close by….the whinny of horses…the lone cry of a hawk. Her heart, heavy from many sleepless nights, shook off its burden of sorrow and sang with joy. The familiar scent of sun-warmed earth filled her lungs and the well-known feeling of grass between her toes brought tears to her eyes. Never would she had guessed that returning to the East Emnet of Rohan would bring such bliss. _

_ A thatched house appeared on the horizon, not a hundred yards from where she frolicked. Crying out in surprise and excitement, she raced towards it, recognizing it as her home. As she drew closer, trees and a small barn came into focus; the sound of childish laughter and squeals echoed across the expanse. She reached the base of the hill and ran as hard as she could, ignoring her lungs that screamed for relief and her heart that pounded hard and loud in her ears. Cresting the knoll, she finally slowed to a stop, gasping raggedly and trembling from her exertions. She caught her breath and straightened up…_

_ And let out a shriek of agony. _

_ The little house on the hill was burning before her very eyes. Flames arched and leapt from the roof, licking away at the dry grass and devouring the wood-lined walls. Smoke billowed out of the windows and enshrouded the distraught woman, choking her. Waving her hands to clear her field of vision, she whipped her head about, screaming for her family; she stumbled drunkenly into the blazing house, wailing as the fire seared her tender flesh. She fell to her knees, whimpering and sobbing while the flames started to engulf her. She struggled to speak as she succumbed to the smoke, yet all she could muster was "Please"…._

Calimiriel awoke with a start, weeping profusely. All around her was night. A strong hand was pressed against her mouth, muffling her screams. She thrashed violently, beating the assailant with balled fists. She ceased her cries for help when a gentle voice murmured softly, "Do not struggle, my lady. Tis only a dream." She visibly relaxed and dissolved into sobs. It had seemed so real: the smell of the prairie…the earth beneath her feet…the little cabin upon the hill…

Boromir knelt next to her and rubbed her arm soothingly, feeling a bit awkward. His initial instinct when comforting a woman was to take her to him and stroke her hair, but in this instance, he feared she would be offended by his forwardness. His concerns proved moot when Calimiriel threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, crying quietly. The Gondorian slowly wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, combing an ungloved hand through her silky tresses. He noticed with some annoyance that she smelled of jasmine and sweet violets.

"It was so real…." Her voice, subdued by his tunic, was soft and heavy with sorrow. "The house…the prairie…"

"You dreamt of home?" he inquired, shifting so that he sat on the ground and leaned against a nearby tree, still keeping the distraught maiden against him.

"Aye…I was on the plains, and I saw my home aflame. I searched for my family and could not find them…"

Boromir pursed his lips and pulled her away as so to look her in the eye. "Were they slain?" he asked quietly, gaze sympathetic.

Calimiriel shook her head. "No, they were not…I left home to find my own way. I have been wracked with guilt ever since I departed. I did not wish to bring pain upon them, but I wanted a life of my own." She sighed and passed a hand over her eyes. "Is it so terrible that I desire a better life for myself than what has been established for me? Not that a farmer's life is so very horrid; I just….want something different." She lowered her gaze and ducked her head, feeling a bit embarrassed by her vulnerability to a total stranger.

"My lady…" breathed the Gondorian, gently tilting her face up, "there is no shame in desiring to better yourself. Leaving home to make your own way in life is admirable. You are strong, my lady Calimiriel…strong and brave. Do not be afraid…" A corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smile as he grasped her shoulders. "If every you are in need of anything, you need only ask, my lady."

She nodded once, absently fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. "You are too kind, my lord," she murmured, face flushing a few shades darker upon realizing she was staring directly at him.

He too felt strangely ill at ease: being so forward with a woman he hardly knew – _a lady of high breeding, according to her impeccable manners and attire, _he allowed – seemed a serious breach of conduct. Clearing his throat roughly, Boromir rose to his feet and helped her up. He held her hands for a few moments before letting go. "I will take your watch tonight, my lady…you need to rest."

"No! I am well enough to sit up for a few hours. No need to coddle me, my lord."

"On the contrary, my lady…I am doing naught of the sort. Please…I have not been able to sleep for two days, and I would not even if you chose to take your turn on watch. It gives me something to do…"

Calimiriel was about to protest but thought better of it. She _was_ tired…"Very well, my lord. I apologize for being audacious. I—" She was cut off by his hand upon hers. He smiled kindly and inclined his head. "Think naught of it, my lady. I am glad I was able to assist in some small way." He bowed shallowly and turned to walk back to the campfire.

* * *

Several nights later, the four travelers reached the Gladden Fields, the glade surrounding the mouth of the Gladden River ere it joined with the River Anduin. Apart from the marshlands, the land was desolate: a few trees littered the nearly naked expanse which sloped down into a meager valley before leveling out once more. A fog hovered above the water and spread out to cover most of the landscape, making it nearly impossible to see further than a couple yards into the distance. The two mortal companions felt a distinct eeriness about the place; even Stormbane was a bit unnerved. He nickered frequently and pawed at the ground, prancing in place more so than usual. Calimiriel glanced towards the almost noiseless river and gasped quietly, gripping the reins tighter. In the gloom, she fancied that she saw a figure shrouded in grey hunched over the riverbank. It turned to the right, revealing gilded armor with a tree engraved in the breastplate. She realized upon closer examination that the tree's crown was split in twain and a wreath of stars hung aloft. The hooded and cloaked figure started as if awakening from a dream and looked around; it ripped off its armor and raced into the mist, seeming to become part of it as soon as it enshrouded him.

Elrohir saw her change in demeanor and fell back to speak with her. "Lady, are you well?"

She inhaled deeply and nodded, swallowing hard. "Why do you ask?" she inquired, trying to sound more at ease than she felt.

The Elf arched a dark brow as he kept pace with the steed. "What did you see?" he asked gently, troubled by the fear clearly visible on her face. He noticed that the Man of Gondor tilted his head a bit, listening surreptitiously.

"I saw…a Man – at least, I think it was…cloaked in grey and wearing kingly armor. A tree was on the breastplate and the…" she gestured to her forearms, indicating bracers, "and his helm. He jumped as if he heard something and shed all save his undertunic, leggings, and cloak before running off into the fog…" She trailed off when Boromir turned around completely and stared at her with wide eyes. "Did I say something wrong?"

"That was Isildur, son of Elendil, King of Gondor that you saw, my lady." Elrohir answered for Boromir, who was too aghast to reply. "He and his Men were on their way to Imladris when they were ambushed by Orcs. They were outnumbered ten to one, and by nightfall, they were beset. King Isildur had sent his esquire Ohtar on to Imladris early on with the shards of Narsil in hopes of preserving a sacred element of their past; such an act came at a great cost. Isildur's sons Aratar and Ciryon were killed in battle, and his eldest Elendur was later slain when he bade his father depart and keep the One Ring from the Orcs. After he fled, the rest of the Dúnedain were decimated save for Elendur's squire Estelmo, who was rendered unconscious by two other surviving Dúnedain and made to look dead to save his life. King Thranduil of Greenwood arrived at the battle too late to save any others; he did, however, keep from the corpses from being dishonored."

"How do you know all that?" asked Calimiriel, quite taken aback by the Elf's extensive knowledge on the subject.

"My father has many historical tomes in his study; nearly every happening and subject in Middle-earth has been recorded and preserved in the Last Homely House. When we arrive, I shall show you." Patting Stormbane's withers, the Elf jogged back to the front to join his brother, leaving the two mortals alone.

"My lady, may I put a question to you?" Boromir asked. When Calimiriel nodded, he continued. "How is it that you know so little of the world when you are of high birth?"

Her brow furrowed deeply and she tilted her head slightly to the right. "I…where did you hear that I was of high birth?" she questioned, perplexed.

Now Boromir looked baffled. "But….your apparel…and your speech is very graceful…" he stammered, giving her a once-over as if to assure himself of his opinion.

Her face flushed darkly, realizing his mistake. "Oh…my lord Boromir….I fear that I must correct you. The truth is, I…I was born a farmgirl." The words came out with great difficulty.

He halted suddenly, genuinely astounded. Even the Elves slowed momentarily upon hearing her confession. "…A farmgirl?" he repeated incredulously.

"Indeed." Her gaze lowered, ashamed. "My father was a wealthy Rohirric farmer who fell in love with a Gondorian lady. She was cast off when they married without her parents' consent. My father took her to his home in the East Emnet; two years later, my mother gave birth to me. I was named after the last Queen of Arthedain, a distant ancestor of my mother's family. I expect that they wished I would do something great for their family, but judging their stance before I left home, I hazard that they gave up that dream."

"…..You are a descendant of Elendil?" The Man was beside himself with astonishment. Both Elves now were stopped and facing her, utterly still.

Calimiriel frowned a bit, confused by their reactions. "…I know not. What I just told you is what was passed down to me from my mother, who was told by her father in turn." She squirmed uncomfortably under their flabbergasted gazes.

Elladan spoke for the first time in days. "My lady….Elendil had two sons, Isildur and Anárion. They had sons who begat sons who begat sons. On Isildur's side, a prince named Arvedui married a princess on Anárion's side named F_í_riel. They begat a son, Aranarth. When the kingdom of Arthedain fell to Angmar in T.A. 1974, Queen Fíriel sent their son away to continue with the line of kings in secret. It is believed that she was slain at the Battle, but Arvedui lived. He fled to the north when Arnor fell, and soon after, C_í_rdan the Ship-wright sent a boat to rescue him. Against the wishes of the Lossoth – the Snow-people of the north – he boarded and subsequently drowned in the Ice Bay of Forochel. While Arvedui was the last king of Arnor, Aranarth became the first Chieftain of the Dúnedain. Allowing for some interracial mixing, you, my lady, are indeed of Númenorean descent. "

"….What does that mean exactly?" the Rohirric maiden asked slowly, still trying to work out all this new information and how it related to her.

Boromir looked staggered. "My lady Calimiriel, it means that you are of royal blood. Apart from your father's Rohirric heritage, you are very nearly pure Dúnedain."

Her face grew waxen and her body stiffened. She became keenly aware of the three faces staring intently at her. _Royalty…surely they jest…but they seem so serious…it cannot be…_Stunned speechless, she kicked Stormbane's flanks and urged him into a brisk trot through the fog, trying to escape their bewildered faces. The other three caught up eventually, but she ignored them, too dazed to discuss the matter any further.

A few quiet hours later, they made camp in a small grove of trees. It was too stifling to make a fire thus they were forced to go without a hot supper. Calimiriel made her bed in silence, looking up only to see the twins finally retiring and Boromir taking first watch. It did not make sense to her: if she was Dúnedain, how did her mother's father end up anywhere near Rohan? Why was her grandfather so angry at her mother for marrying a Rohirric farmer? She was a descendant of kings and queens, yes, but not pure enough to be one, so why did it matter?

Boromir's gentle baritone interrupted her whirlwind of thoughts. "My lady, I sincerely apologize if we overwhelmed you. Such was not our intent. We had no idea that you were ignorant of all this."

Calimiriel shook her head, not looking away from her cot. "I know…it…I am just…too much to take in at once." She smiled weakly, running a shaky hand through her hair. "What do I do with this knowledge? Does it affect my life any? Do I have any living relatives? I know not what to think or say…"

He turned her around and held her arms firmly. "My lady, I realize that we might have been a bit hasty in revealing such hefty information to you. Please understand that we did not mean to inflict a sense of responsibility upon you. Whatever you choose to do with your life is entirely up to you; there is no need for you to feel pressured into any sort of service or obligation." He fought to resist the urge to cradle her face.

She peeked up at him, eyes uncertain. "What is now expected of me now that it is known I am of the Dúnedain?"

"Nothing – nothing that you do not wish, that is."

"But is it right for me to journey to Rivendell when my people are elsewhere? Are there any still alive? Where are they? What is their culture like? What is—" He cut her off by pressing his finger on her lips. She exhaled and closed her eyes, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

"Calimiriel, if I may speak frankly…" here, he finally did cradle her face and force her eyes to stare into his, "listen to me carefully: you are free to lead your own life, just as you said to me not three days ago. Where your ancestors came from means nothing. You are just as free now as you were before you discovered this. Please do not be alarmed." He smiled faintly and chastely kissed her cheek, releasing her face and rising. A curt bow and he was off to his original position in front of the encampment.

Her hand drifted up to her cheek as she stared at his back, a bit dazed. Never had anyone save her mother and father kissed her; the sensation was quite different, to say the least. A rush of heat pooled in her belly and her face flushed dark red. _Since when have I been given to wayward thoughts?_ she scoffed quietly, tucking stray curls behind her ears. _I am a lady of morals…_That still did not stymie the fantasies that manifested without warning or encouragement. Grumbling to herself, the Rohirric maiden burrowed into her cot and closed her eyes tightly, trying to silence the barrage of sexually fueled thoughts.

It felt as though she had only just dozed for a moment or two when the sound of quiet growls filled her head. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, blinking rapidly whilst peering into the darkness. At first, she thought that maybe it was just animals in the night….and then a low, thick voice snarled something too faint to hear. Heart in her throat and now wide awake, Calimiriel slowly got to her feet and grabbed the blade hidden under her pillow. Boromir was nowhere in sight, and both twins still slumbered – a sight that greatly concerned her.

Another soft mutter reached her hypersensitive ears, and now she could not wait for Boromir. Gripping the hilt with both hands, she noiselessly sneaked over to Elrohir, shaking him. "Wake up," she murmured softly. Almost instantly, the Elf's gaze focused and he blinked once. "My lady. What troubles you?" he mouthed.

"I heard voices," she replied in kind, looking around.

The Elf woke his brother and got to his feet. "Where is Boromir?" he asked silently. He was met with a shrug. _Rhaich _(Curses)….

As they formed a semicircle, a collective growl echoed through the forest; not a moment later, the fog enshrouding the camp dissipated and tongues of flame illuminated the little clearing. Roars echoed through the trees as Orc-like creatures besieged the camp. They wielded longswords with a great spike protruding vertical from each one; their bodies were covered with naught but a loincloth, bracers, schynbalds, and a helmet that covered most of their hideous faces. On that great helmet, a white handprint was smeared upon the front. Their eyes were golden with hatred and their grotesque mouths curled into open smiles, revealing yellowed, spiked teeth.

The twins jumped into the horde, slicing through the closest of the abominations. They stabbed and hacked with uncanny precision. Blood fanned from their steel like water upon rock; the dying bellows rang in the ears of every living being. Elladan spun and swung with stunning accuracy while Elrohir kicked and punched; Calimiriel defended as best she could, but was being slowly overwhelmed. She fell back with a cry and curled up against a tree, covering her head with her arms and steeling herself for the blow.

Another voice thundered through the clamor. A war cry deep and echoing. The monster drooling above her with his blade raised above his head dropped without a sound. She saw the moonlight shine on a tall dark man with a broadsword drawn and bloodied. Boromir continued to swing with fury and power, bringing his steel clean through the torsos of the creatures around Calimiriel. She stumbled to her feet, watching the carnage around her. Time seemed to slow: seconds turned to minutes, and minutes to hours. She saw her companions overpower the hoards surrounding them… heard the sounds of swords clashing on armor…the blood of their enemy flying from every swing. She looked about urgently for her knife….only for her task to be cut short by a flash of pain and then nothingness.

Her companions saw her fall to the ground like a rag doll. Before they could even move to her aid, the creature's leader threw her over his shoulder and ran from the battlefield. With desperation the Elves and Man threw themselves upon the stragglers. Blood covered them head to toe as they mercilessly butchered those within sword's reach. Within moments every abomination had all fallen at their hand. Severed limbs littered the clearing, some still twitching; those that were not fortunate enough to die instantly lay on the ground huffing and snarling with every ragged breath. The companions gathered themselves and flew after their lost friend, hoping that they were not too late. They had spent too much time fighting their way through the wall of evil. They had much ground to recover.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you for waiting ever so patiently for this labor of love. You have my lovely boyfriend to thank for helping me gimp through that fight scene. (We were watching "King Arthur" as a family and I used it for inspiration...but still I struggled.) So...thank Mr. Blizzard for your stupendous battle writing.

Now...for those of you who are confused (be it a little or a lot) about Cal's ancestry, message me and I'll explain, for it is very long and there is not enough room here to be both concise and thorough. Hope it was understandable and enjoyable. For those of you who are aching for a romantic endeavor...fret not. I have plans *rubs hands together whilst smiling deviously*. I will update often so as to keep my readership. You know the drill. Read, enjoy, and leave me a note if you liked it. :)


	9. At the Mercy of the Enemy

**Chapter VIII**

**At the Mercy of the Enemy**

Guttural voices. Throbbing pain. Equally agonizing movement. The sound of her own heart careening in her ears. The metallic taste in her mouth. Darkness all around. A snarl and suddenly sharp pain in her side. _Where am I? What happened? _The weight on her chest pushed down intermittently, inhibiting her breathing. Blood dripped down the side of her face. With much effort, she forced her eyes to open, wincing as light blinded her. A groan escaped her throat as sunbursts filled her vision. Another bout of excruciating pain, accompanied by a throaty growl: "Shut yer mouth, human!"

Calimiriel carefully reopened her eyes after waiting a little while, and what she saw frightened her. One look to her left and she realized she was being carried by this hideous beast. His massive arm was wrapped around her waist, pushing her stomach into his muscular shoulder. The thing was in a full-on sprint, which accounted for the mysterious jostling she was experiencing. Branches slapped her face as he raced through the underbrush. By the looks of it, it was midday.

Her mind scrambled to understand her current situation. _What happened? Why am I being taken? What did I do? _She tried to move her arms, but due to being suspended in mid-air for however long it had been, they just kept flailing about rebelliously. Her head ached so badly that her vision swam. Her sole desire was to be laid down; however, judging by the present company and the sense of urgency he seemed to feel, such a wish was long from being granted.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached a camp of sorts. No fire burned in its center though other beings like the one who carried her mingled about, hunched over and snarling. Some were brawling whilst others were bent over various carcasses and ripping meat from the bones to shove into their sniveling mouths. All eyes were on her and her….guardian as they entered the campsite.

"Wot 'ave we got 'ere, Zaguf?" One of the monsters shuffled up to Calimiriel's "carrier" and leered at her, grinning wickedly. "That don't look like th' crystal ball we is—" He was cut off by Zaguf's massive hand raking across his face."Do not speak to her unless I say so! Understood?!" the Orc-man roared. The others, including the injured one, grumbled their acknowledgement. Zaguf suddenly set her upright, pushing her forward and laughing when she fell flat on her face. Reaching down, he yanked her to her feet and grabbed her by her hair, dragging her over to a spot near some trees and shoving her against it. One of the creatures handed him three strands of rope, which he used to lash her ankles together and tie her hands together behind the tree trunk.

Calimiriel stared pointedly at the thing, fear distorting her lovely face. "Who are you? What am I doing here?" she snapped, her voice shaky. When it did not answer her, she thrashed about, repeating the two questions until Zaguf punched her jaw and ordered her to be quiet. He finished tying her hands and gave her a final shove. "Keep yer tongue in check and we won't 'urt you much, that clear?" She bobbed her head vigorously in affirmation.

Once the Orc-man left (as she now called them in her head), Calimiriel took the time to observe her surroundings: the position of the sun in the sky, the landscape, the wind's direction, how many of those monstrosities resided in this camp…their very presence set her ill at ease. The cold hatred in their golden eyes alone frightened her into obedient silence. Calimiriel busied herself with testing the strength of the rope which bound her wrists. She found that it had been tied so tightly that her hands were losing blood. Alarmed, she began surreptitiously sawing the rope across the rough bark of the tree in hopes of weakening it, all the while keeping a sharp eye out for any observers and stopping when any of them looked her way…

* * *

Dusk had spread over the land like a cloak when the Rohirric maiden finally felt one of the ropes give a bit. Containing her excitement, the Rohirric maiden focused intently on that one strand, tucking her lower lip in between her teeth unknowingly. She barely restrained her squeal of joy when she felt the damaged string sever and the instant tingling relief she felt in her weary hands. _Aiya Elbereth, hano le! _(Oh, Elbereth, thank you!), she praised silently as she tucked the split ends into the other strands, trying to disguise her clandestine escape plan. The Orc-men had paid her little heed throughout the day; she assumed that their disinterest stemmed from something very important: they felt secure. For whatever reason they took her, they felt safe that her friends could not – would not – find her. _That must mean I am further away than I realize,_ Calimiriel groaned internally. She cursed her lack of geographical knowledge.

An Orc-man lumbered over to her, holding something disgusting in his right clawed hand. "Zaguf wants ya t' eat, so 'ere," it said in its wet, gravelly voice as it threw that abominable, slimy-looking mess onto the ground near her left hip, "eat up. If that isn't gone by th' time I come back 'ere, your pretty lit'l face will bear the brunt of me fist." It grinned lopsidedly at her, eyes glinting with wicked glee, before turning and jogging back to the crowd in the middle.

Calimiriel stared down at what looked like to be intestines of some poor animal – _possibly a deer judging by the size_, she realized while swallowing the bile that rose in her throat – and then back at the mob. They seemed so absorbed in their orgy-like feast that they gave little notice to their surroundings. Without turning her head, she glanced about for any sign of watching eyes; to her delight, she saw none. _Now! _urged a voice in her head. _Now or you will never escape! _

Keeping her gaze forward, the Rohirric maiden untucked the rope strands with trembling hands and slowly unwound her hands. She flexed her wrists with barely withheld enthusiasm when the bindings fell away and were buried in the grass behind the tree. In one fluid motion, she rose and spun around behind the birch; when no cry of alarm rose in the camp, she moved to take a step – and fell to her knees, head spinning. _Nononononono, not now! Get it together, Cal! _Forcing herself into an upright position, she raced awkwardly through the forest, aiming for a patch of underbrush which offered her a much needed respite. It was no small miracle that she made it without any one of those things following her.

Calimiriel collapsed into the bramble, wincing as the thorns scratched her face and every exposed part of her body. She worked her stinging hands to her face and rubbed her eyes vigorously. Slowly but surely, her head cleared and coherent thought returned; she began planning her escape. _I am on the east side of the camp. If I were to aim northwest and venture until I reached the northern entrance, I could head back the way I came – hopefully, I can either meet up with them or make it to the river and wait for them. No, that is foolish, _she reprimanded herself. _If they cannot find me, they will assume I am dead! Find them if possible…if not, leave a message of some kind that will lead them to me._

Her mind resolved, the Rohirric maiden's fingers searched for any holes or tears in her dress, her intent to leave a shred of cloth as a guide. When none was found – _damn those Elves and their fine craftsmanship! _– she found a stick and wrapped three strands of her hair around it, yanking them free after tying a knot around the dried branch. She worked her way out of the thorny mess and curled up behind the mess of prickly vines; grinding her marker into the ground near the base of a young oak, she carefully arranged the hairs so that they faced due north. It was not much but she had little else to rely upon.

A shout went up in the camp, and Calimiriel knew her time was up. Sending a silent prayer heavenward, she broke into a sprint, dodging the trees with some difficulty. One glance over her shoulder told her that they were still in disarray, unsure of where she raced off to. A bellow that rose above the rest resounded in the forest and barked orders. She ran faster still, adrenaline making her feet fly over the terrain. Reaching the pathway she remembered being carried along earlier, she turned to face due north and raced through the forest to her freedom…hopefully.

* * *

"Any signs?" Elrohir called out to his brother and the Gondorian soldier from across the way.

"None, brother!" answered Elladan, eyes riveted to the springy grass. It was almost twilight and after searching all night and far into the morning, they had traveled roughly about five miles while following the trail left by the strange ogre-esque creature that had taken their friend. All of a sudden, the tracks had disappeared, which led them to believe that the thing had doubled back and taken another route. If it had, they could not find it.

Boromir growled in frustration, punching his leg with a gloved fist. "Where else could they go?! We have followed the trail back a mile already and there is no sign of a new path!"

"Indeed not…but what other choice do we have? We must assume that it is the slightest bit intelligent and try to think as it does." Elladan's calm manner both impressed and annoyed the Gondorian. "Its instincts seem to be animalistic at worst, sub-human at best: it knew that taking the female of the group would initiate a search party from the males, and yet it would not do so unless it was certain that it was strong enough to take us three in a battle. Which means…."

"There are more than what came after us," Boromir finished with a deep sigh.

"Precisely. We must prepare for such an encounter, even if the possibility seems unlikely." He turned to Elrohir as he joined the duo. "I say we gather our strength and journey back to where the trail first began and spread out, each checking the surrounding area for any deviations or misleading pathways. We may find something we missed afore."

As the trio changed direction and started jogging back the way they came, Boromir lost himself in his thoughts. Something was very different about him…and he was not sure he particularly enjoyed the change. He had gone from being a stout warrior of the South, dedicated and unwavering, to a second-guessing half-wit who was actually panicked about a company member's well-being. Not that it was overly emotional to concern oneself with another's safety – on the contrary, it was the pinnacle of humanity to feel thusly. To the Gondorian, however, it seemed…foreign. _Only because she is a woman and…_He could not will himself to complete that thought. _Not yet…not until I know for certain…_

He was shaken from his thoughts by the sudden absence of the twins. The Elves, their footfalls were as silent as the wind, had apparently vanished without him realizing. His first instinct was to believe they had abandoned him, but after a few moments, the ludicrousness of such an act dissuaded those whispers. He was not pivotal to her return – _if she is indeed ever rescued_, a more dismayed side of him interjected – but they would be foolish to turn away assistance. _They must have heard something and left without noticing that I did not follow_, the Gondorian concluded with a shake of his head. Gripping his sword tighter, he began to examine the ground as he walked for any clues to the Elves' new direction.

Meanwhile, Elrohir and Elladan had indeed ventured off the path, ignorant of Boromir's absence. Elladan had spied on their journey back a stray footprint, too large to be human but not shaped like an animal of any species. He had grabbed his brother and moved to inspect this strange impression, only to discover that it was unlike anything he had ever seen. It was at least eighteen inches from toe to heel and nearly ten inches across. The arch was nonexistent yet judging by the firmness of the footmark, the beast did not seem hindered by this. The overall detail of the evidence hinted at possibly an oversized Man-like creature – and that left both Elves utterly baffled. This was not giant country (and even if it was, the footprint was far too small to be of giant origin) nor were there any known groups of trolls this far northeast of the _Hithaeglir_. This left them to believe that some new mysterious evil had manifested itself in Middle-earth and walked unnoticed by many.

Elrohir stood and turned to address Boromir, quite startled to see that he was nowhere to be seen. His keen grey eyes surveyed the surrounding trees for the Gondorian soldier; the Elf saw him heading northwest with eyes on the forest floor and sword drawn. Thinking the Man had found something worthy of interest, Elrohir left his brother and jogged towards Boromir.

"I thought you were right behind us," said the Elf after easily catching up to him.

Boromir started and looked at Elrohir, eyes a mixture of surprise and secret relief. "And I did not realize you had journeyed elsewhere," he replied evenly, a bit miffed at being left behind to find his own way.

The Elf noticed and was about to comment when the wind shifted and brought with it a wayward sound, so faint that it almost passed by unobserved. He went completely still, listening intently for aught further.

"What is it?" questioned Boromir, forgetting his irritation and now concerned.

Elrohir motioned for silence, looking about rapidly for the source of the noise. _Did I imagine it?_ he wondered. Nothing more was heard and he relaxed visibly. "My apologies, Lord Boromir. I fancied I hearkened the sound of –" The Elf cut off suddenly when it was repeated and with slightly more volume than previously. It came from the south. "—sound of someone being chased," he finished as he drew his long knife and broke into a run, calling for Elladan in their tongue. "_Á tulë asenyë_, _toror!_ (Come with me, brother!)" The Gondorian followed closely behind, shield fitted onto his left arm and sword held in his right. They had not traveled half a mile when the noise Elrohir had perceived became audible for all. Strangled gasps and rustling footfalls threatened to be drowned out by the more aggressive resonance of vicious growls and ominous trampling. Their hearts stirred to fearful hope, the three raced faster towards the sound.

It was Elladan who first descried the figure clad in azure sprinting through the forest, chestnut hair flowing behind her. Her gown was muddied and covered in leaves; twigs littered her long tresses; and her face was blooded. Her eyes were wild with terror and she seemed oblivious to her three companions who watched from afar. A frantic scream ripped through the air like a knife; it was answered by a roar from her unknown hunters.

Boromir ran toward her, shield and sword raised as he gave a great shout. Elrohir joined the Man with less intensity, leaving Elladan behind to cover them with his recurve. She passed long before they reached her, blinded by sheer desperation. Elrohir motioned for Boromir to continue on and fight whoever or whatever came forth from the trees and veered north to apprehend Calimiriel. The Gondorian responded with fierce alacrity as he slowed to a stop, bracing himself for impact.

The creatures came in droves, covered in burnished armor and wielding long scimitars with horrendous spikes protruding from their tips. Some also carried bladed shields with a single white handprint on the front. They bared their yellowed teeth and beat their chests menacingly at the Man, who responded by cleaving the closest one in twain with a mighty roar. They swarmed about him, slashing and hacking; some fell by the arrows of the Elf while others were decapitated. _"_FOR GONDOR!" Boromir bellowed with every swing, eyes wild with rage.

Elrohir raced after Calimiriel, calling to her as he drew closer and closer. "My lady! Calimiriel, stop! _Dartho!_" His words fell upon deaf ears. When the Elf was finally close enough to touch, he reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her to an abrupt stop. "STOP!" he shouted, turning her around to face him. Her feral gaze held his for a heartbeat before she started screaming and flailing about, trying to escape his grasp. Knowing that she was clearly not in her right mind, Elrohir forced the Rohirric woman to his chest and held her tightly, stroking her matted hair and letting her wild shrieks turn to delirious sobbing as she finally came to her senses. When Calimiriel's weeping was reduced to tremulous whimpers, the Elf swept her into his arms and rushed back to the battle.

When he arrived, there was little left to be accomplished. In his rage, Boromir had very nearly demolished the estimated fifty Orcish Men with the help of Elladan's master bowmanship. The surviving warriors' bodies were covered in the blood and innards of their fellow comrades and their eyes were now fearful rather than murderous. With howls of rage, the creatures charged the Gondorian in a last attempt to fell him; three were slain by the Elf's arrows and the remaining two were decimated by the Man's blood-caked sword.

Elladan lowered his bow and ran to his brother's side, eyes never leaving Calimiriel's quivering form. Falling to his knees, he gently took her face in his hands and scrutinized her injuries closely, noting the deep gash near the base of her scalp. A tremor of unholy rage passed through him as his eyes darkened faintly. "Does she know herself?" he asked curtly, modestly checking for further abuse.

"She has not spoken," answered Elrohir. His stormy gaze was wrought with concern.

Boromir yanked his blade from the torso of his adversary and lifted his face to the heavens. A deep, wavering sigh escaped his bloodied lips as he let his sword fall to his feet. A quiet moan from Calimiriel caught his attention and he ceased his respite. Picking up his weapon, he wearily jogged over to the seated Elves. "Does she live?" he asked while disarming himself.

"Yes, but she is very weak and does not respond to our questions," Elrohir answered, voice tainted with worry as he carefully laid her upon the leafy ground. He watched as the Man cradled her jaw and inspected the damage. A sudden streak of livid jealousy assaulted his mind at the sight of his tenderness, causing the Elf to visibly start. Subtly shaking his head, he suppressed the peculiar emotion and focused on the matter at hand.

"My lady, can you hear me?" Boromir spoke gently, contrasting sharply with the sight of his gore-covered attire and blood-spattered face. When she did not respond, he quickly unbuckled his right bracer and pulled off the gauntlet beneath, reaching out with his ungloved hand to feel her pallid face. "She is cold," he stated as he unclasped his fur-lined cloak and laid it out.

Elrohir gingerly enfolded the unconscious maiden in the thick material, tucking the ends under her bare feet. "We must hurry. I fear she will fade without Lord Elrond's assistance."

"Agreed." Elladan rose and sheathed his bow behind his back. "I will go forth alone and scout the area." The Elf vanished into the woods, heading for the river.

"I will carry her," Boromir offered, kneeling down and gathering her into his arms. "I need your eyes and ears in case we get attacked again." Cradling her against his broad chest, the Gondorian waited for Elrohir to rise before breaking into a sprint.

* * *

The sun had disappeared behind the bleak horizon by the time the Elf and Man caught up with Elladan at the banks of the Gladden River. It was not very deep, but neither of them were tall enough to carry their fallen companion across the river without being submerged. Seeing no real choice in the matter, Boromir was forced to wade in and swim across, positioning the Rohirric maiden so that she half-lay over his shoulder and her head was kept above the water. Upon reaching the opposite shore, the Gondorian returned her to his arms and tried wringing as much water out of the cloak as possible. When the twins joined him, the three continued their panicked race to Rivendell which was now almost a hundred miles away.

Meanwhile, Calimiriel fought the urge to succumb to the oppressive darkness looming over her like a thundercloud. She was barely aware of what transpired beyond her current plight: every now and again, the feel of the wind on her face or the sound of heavy footfalls would penetrate her subconscious, but she paid it no heed. Panic filled her as with each passing moment, she slipped further and further from reality. The shade that visited her in the Wild returned and began whispering seductively to her, caressing her with icy fingers in an all-too familiar way. _"Come hither, dear one. Do not run from me once more. You belong to the dark of the Void,"_ it murmured sweetly, seemingly pleased with her futile efforts. _"I will not let you go this time…not even your beloved Elves can bring you back from where I am taking you…"_

"_Get away from me! I want to live!" _she cried silently, thrashing about in her mind as the shadowy apparition tightened its grip on her ever-weakening form. _"Please! Let me live!" _

"_But you belong with me," _it insisted with a painful yank. _"You always did…" _Laughing manically, its spidery hands wrapped around her throat and sought to smother the fire of her soul. _"Come join me…there is no hope…" _

She writhed frantically and pulled at the hands about her neck, all to no avail. Her lungs screamed for air as her vision swam. _Please…let me live…_

* * *

**A/N:** I know I know...I am a terrible person for leaving such a cliffhanger, but it definitely keeps your interest, eh? ;) Thank you all for being so patient. I was scheduled to work six days in a row - all save one were eight-hour shifts. Needless to say, I was exhausted after each day. But now I have prevailed and writing can commence! Already planning Chapter IX (which will FINALLY allow me to write what I've been aching to since day one) so fear not - I shall not keep you all waiting long. Many thanks! :)


	10. Leaves of Crimson and Gold

**Chapter IX**

**Leaves of Crimson and Gold**

Calimiriel opened her eyes and found only darkness. Not complete darkness – nay, she saw traces of grey breaking the monotony of night in the waning sky. As her vision cleared, she could see that trees pierced the grey, running jagged across the horizon, and further east ran inky mountains, endless in number. A cool breeze wafted about her and tickled her cheeks. She breathed deeply and delighted in the sensation of the brisk, dawn air. Her limbs became unencumbered by sleep. Her mind started dashing about in all directions like a caged animal begging to be freed. Pure, restless energy filled her. She had to rise ere she exploded from sheer anticipation.

As she pushed herself up to a sitting position, Calimiriel felt the energy she had but moments before drain from her. She fell back on the silk pillow with a quiet moan. Her right side screamed in agony, and her head throbbed dizzily. Her stomach tumbled and turned with every shuddering breath. Her heart pounded in her sensitive ears. The world spun around her, further antagonizing her sudden nausea. She glanced down at her hands and found that they shook like leaves in the wind. Her face tingled and flashes of light sparkled everywhere she looked. As swiftly as joy and enthusiasm strengthened her, reality swept in and banished them, reminding her of all her physical and mental ailments. Calimiriel recalled with fearful reluctance the shade that so desperately sought her life and the suffocating dark that threatened to extinguish her existence. A shiver of terror ran through her. It had all felt so real: the hands about her neck…the panic…the unadulterated anguish that had stolen her breath and stopped her heart…

Her morbid thoughts were interrupted by the whisper of light footfalls on stone. A door opened and a form was silhouetted against the awakening sky. Calimiriel rubbed her eyes and squinted, trying to get a better glimpse of the person standing in the doorway. The figure floated closer and bent over the bed; cool fingers gently rested upon her throat and felt for her heartbeat. A soft sigh pierced the silence. "You are awake." The voice was melodious and very obviously feminine.

"Where am I?" asked Calimiriel. Her own voice sounded rough in comparison.

"In Imladris, my lady – or Rivendell, as it is known by Men." A spark of light and the woman lit a candle beside the bed. Calimiriel could now see the newcomer's features that were once hidden by the fading dark. Her ivory skin was flawless and her warm green eyes calmly gazed upon the Rohirric maiden. She was clad in a golden gown with sleeves that fell to the floor at the elbow, revealing slender arms and willowy hands. Her ebony hair was adorned with crimson strands and russet beads. Rosebud lips smiled down on Calimiriel, parting to reveal pearly teeth.

Calimiriel instantly felt like the awkward country girl that she was. "Rivendell? How long have I been asleep?"

The She-Elf blinked once and sat on the bed next to her. "My lady, nearly a week has been gone since you were brought here by the sons of Lord Elrond and the Gondorian."

At the mention of her companions, Calimiriel immediately sat up. "Are they well? What happened?"

"My lady, please do not fret. You are still quite weary and need rest. Lord Elladan and Lord Elrohir are safe, as is Lord Boromir."

Ignoring the Elven handmaiden's protests, Calimiriel got to her feet, steadying herself momentarily before looking around at the room. "Where is the gown I arrived in?"

"It is currently being mended by our weavers. This is what was selected for you when you awoke." She gestured over to an exquisite chair near Calimiriel. It was crafted from what looked to be the roots of a tree, the arms and back seamlessly intertwining. Draped over the back was a pale blue gown with silver accents; it looked like a piece of the river had been fashioned into a dress so breathtaking it seemed impossible that it could be deemed hers. "If you insist upon exiting the room, my lady, please allow me to accompany you. Lord Elrond has charged me with your care, and I would be deeply distressed if aught happened to you."

"Yes, of course. I do not feel well enough to traverse the city on my own anyway." She reached for the dress but the handmaiden stopped her. "Allow me," the She-Elf said, gracefully scooping the gown into her arms and laying it carefully upon the bed. Calimiriel felt strange; being treated like a princess was a concept quite foreign to her.

A half hour later, Calimiriel was dressed. The handmaiden, who introduced herself as Faelwen, had brushed her hair thoroughly, twisting strands and weaving in strands of silver until the Rohirric maiden looked like one of the Eldar herself. Faelwen adjusted the hem of the skirt and smoothed out the wrinkles before straightening with a pleased smile. She helped Calimiriel to her feet and stepped back. "Take a look, my lady," she encouraged, beaming brightly.

Calimiriel cautiously walked over to the full-length mirror, strangely afraid of what she would see. What she beheld left her speechless. The gown complimented her framework beautifully and accentuated rather than detracted from the vividness of her cerulean gaze. The delicate veins of silver glimmered in the morning sun, dazzling the eye. Never had she dreamed that she would ever look so lovely. Glancing back at Faelwen, Calimiriel laughed delighted as she wept, deeply moved.

Alarmed, the She-Elf hurried over to her and arrested her hands. "My lady! What is upsetting?"

"Naught…naught indeed, Faelwen," answered Calimiriel, freeing one of her hands to wipe away the dew upon her cheeks. "I am happy. This…it…." She simply shrugged as words failed her, swishing her skirt and gazing down shyly like a child.

Faelwen understood what the Rohirric lady was attempting to relay. "My lord will be very pleased to see that you approve of the gown," she said with a grin. "Come now, let us walk through the courtyard. The sun is rising and the dell will be most spectacular." Linking arms with Calimiriel, the She-Elf guided them out the door and onto the balcony hallway overlooking the city. A secretly satisfied smile crept onto her face as her companion gasped in awe.

Faelwen had understated the beauty of Rivendell at daybreak. The sun, brilliant and unhindered by clouds, peeked over the nearest mountain-peak and stretched its gilded arms over the buildings below, bathing the valley in its warm, golden light. The trees showed off their autumn attire as they swayed in the morning breeze, and the dew upon the grass sparkled like countless diamonds. Birds of all hues and types glided over the treetops and heralded the dawn's coming, dipping and twirling in their delight. The very scene brought fresh tears to Calimiriel's eyes. _How can such bliss exist on this earth? _she wondered silently, walking on with the handmaiden down the marble stairs.

Voices could be heard echoing about as the two ladies ventured forth into the heart of the city. By and by, Calimiriel encountered the Elven folk of Imladris. The men dressed in long robes of gold, orange, or russet while the women typically were clad in gowns of red, pale green, or dusky blue. Nearly all wore headdresses or some form of decoration in their long tresses, and the women oft boasted silver chains draped in their hair and across their foreheads. They all looked upon her with a hint of confusion and fascination, their gazes following her long after she passed. The sun had risen above the mountains when the pair reached the centre of the courtyard and sat upon a bench crafted from a tree's roots to rest.

Calimiriel was so enraptured by the beauty of the Elves that she did not hear the approaching footsteps or Faelwyn's greeting. A hand rested on the maiden's shoulder, arresting her attention and shaking her from her bliss. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Boromir standing by her, looking down at her with an expression of concern and relief. "Forgive me, Lady Calimiriel, I did not mean to startle you," he apologized with a grimace, dropping to one knee before her. "How fare you?"

"I am well, my lord," she replied shyly, surprised by the look of genuine concern in his grey eyes. "I awoke not long ago."

"Are you hurting still?" He gently took her hand and held it in both of his, rhythmically massaging it with his strong, calloused fingers.

A faint blush colored her cheeks as her heart skipped most peculiarly. "Nay, my lord. My head did ache when I first woke, but it does not anymore," she confessed as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "How long was I unconscious?"

A cloud passed over his brow, his eyes darkening with some unknown emotion. "Tis been six days since you were aware. This is our first morning in Rivendell; we arrived last night."

"…Four days' journey? You three traveled almost thirty leagues in four days?" Calimiriel was stunned. _Does this mean that I was holding them up all along? _

"We were hard-pressed to bring you here, my lady." Boromir seemed puzzled by her surprise. "Need drove us; we had no choice but to proceed without rest. Had we not, you may not had awakened."

"My lord, please do not think I am criticizing your efforts," she implored, unwittingly laying her free hand upon his. "On the contrary, I am most grateful. My astonishment is due to the sheer…determination you exhibited. I knew not that such willpower and endurance existed outside of songs and tales."

A ghost of a smile graced the Gondorian captain's lips. "You are forgiven, my lady, though there is nothing _to_ forgive. I am very glad to find you in good health." He rose and bowed regally. "If your companion does not find offence in it, I would be honored to escort you to morning meal." Faelwyn responded by rising and curtseying. "I take my leave, my lady. We shall meet again soon," said the She-Elf as she drifted off towards a shaded corridor.

Calimiriel accepted Boromir's arm with a dainty laugh. "My lord, I am not so very fragile. I _am_ the daughter of a farmer," she chuckled, humbled by his concern.

The captain arched a dark brow. "My lady, you are not _just_ a farmer's daughter," he reminded her sternly.

She frowned, puzzled. "Then…what am I?" she inquired, clearly confused.

He was about to reply when a bell sounded, signaling the start of morning meal. He led to her a room and stopped at its entrance. "Alas, my lady, I must leave you here."

"You are not going to break your fast?" she asked, surprised.

He shook his head. "I must go to a council assembled by Lord Elrond to discuss some serious matters. I will find you once it is adjourned." The Gondorian captain kissed her hand and bowed before jogging off down the walkway.

She entered a spacious room with many windows. Across the room, a slightly elevated portico overlooked the dining hall, boasting a specially laid table for the lords of Rivendell. The Rohirric maiden walked to a nearly empty table and sat down slowly, looking around the room for any familiar faces. She found none, much to her disappointment. The Elves around her all chattered blithely amongst each other as they served themselves from the bowls and platters in the center of each table, welcoming latecomers in what she assumed was Sindarin. Meekly, she examined the food her hosts had provided: ham steaks, eggs with peppers and tomatoes, and crispy bacon. Sipping the lush red wine from her crystal goblet, Calimiriel tried to muster up the courage to speak to those around her.

She had just begun to form a proper address when a familiar pair of voices echoed across the room. "Lady Calimiriel!" Turning around, she beheld two identical dark-haired Elves walking towards her, their faces beaming.

"My lords!" she exclaimed with equal delight, jumping to her feet and meeting them halfway.

Elladan took her hand and kissed it. "We did not see you rise," he commented as he released her hand and stepped back.

"I awoke not an hour ago, my lords. I hope I did not alarm you." She returned Elrohir's polite embrace with alacrity, squeezing him lightly.

The younger Elf leaned back and looked down at her, giving her a rare smile. "No indeed, my lady. We are happy to see you in good health. We feared the worst yesternight." His gentle smile faded some as he recalled the previous evening. "You looked quite ill…"

"We assumed we were too late." Elladan finished his brother's fragmented thought as he guided them to the veranda. "You had been unconscious for some time and you had grown cold." His eyes darkened faintly as he pulled a chair out for her.

She blushed darkly. "Surely you do not mean for me to sit here in such a high honor, my lords," the maiden stammered, her gaze lowering embarrassedly.

Elrohir scoffed quietly. "My lady…tis merely a table. The people are the honored ones. Please feel free to be seated."

She complied, still feeling awkward. "Does my presence mystify your kindred or peeve them?"

"Neither, my lady," answered Elladan, seating himself on her right as Elrohir sat on her left. "They are amazed to see another of the Dúnedain here in Imladris. They thought most of them to be slain by the Dark Lord or corrupted by him."

"…Another what?" Calimiriel asked, now thoroughly confused.

Elrohir paused in his eating to look at her with furrowed brows. "Dúnedain, my lady – your people. Well, your mother's people, that is."

"…My mother was Gondorian, not…Dúnedain." The word tasted strange on her tongue. "What race are these people?"

Both Elves now were bewildered. "Lady Calimiriel…what do you recall of our conversation in the marshes?" inquired Elladan slowly.

"What marshes?"

Elrohir looked vaguely frightened but kept his cool. "The night of your abduction, we camped in the Fields of the Gladden River. Do you recall anything we said to you or anything you saw?"

Calimiriel shook her head repeatedly. "I remember waking up to find that I was being carried by….something…." She shuddered and fell silent. Elladan rested a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head slightly when Elrohir opened his mouth to speak. "I…I do not recall how I was captured or when…"

"Think no more on the subject, my lady. I apologize for bringing it up." Elladan sighed softly and gently patted her shoulder, leaning back and focusing on his meal as Elrohir struggled to make sense of what had happened.

Half an hour later, after most of the Elves had dispersed into the city, the sons of Elrond and their female companion rose and walked with her out to the courtyard. As they stepped out into the sunlight, Elladan turned and bowed politely. "I must ask you to pardon me: I am needed elsewhere for the moment."

"I hope to speak with you once more, my lord. For the meanwhile, farewell." Calimiriel curtseyed gracefully.

"Farewell for the moment, my lady," rejoined Elladan with a nod. As he departed, Elrohir took the liberty of resting her hand on his arm. "Allow me to journey with you to wherever you desire."

"There is no need, my lord. I am feeling quite well." She caught his fleeting hurt at her dismissal and withdrew her statement. "I do not wish to keep you from anything important," the Rohirric maiden amended sheepishly.

He shook his head. "Elladan's errand did not require me as well, thus I have the pleasure of accompanying you, so long as you wish me here."

Calimiriel smiled brightly and beckoned with her head. "Come, show me around."

They had taken a few steps when suddenly, the sky darkened and thunder rumbled ominously. Every Elf stopped their ears and Calimiriel froze midstride. Her face paled and her limbs became cold. A dark voice echoed inside her head, _"You still belong to me…"_ Her breath hitched and she felt lightheaded. Holding tightly to the Elf's arm, Calimiriel swayed precariously, gasping raggedly. As soon as the thunder came, it dissipated and all was well again in Imladris.

Elrohir took immediate notice to the maiden's distress and guided her to a nearby bench. He helped her sit down and knelt before her, resting his hands on her knees. "Calimiriel, are you well? What is wrong?"

It took her a few moments to come back to her senses and speak without faltering. "I heard it…inside my head…" she whispered shakily, "the voice…the shade…"

"Shade?" Elrohir straightened suddenly, eyes sharp. "Lady Calimiriel, what shade?"

"The shadow that visited me in the Wild and again on the way here. It…it says I belong..." She shook violently, holding his wrists tightly.

He suddenly took her face in his hands and stared into her eyes intensely. "Calimiriel, do not give into fear. You are strong and you are safe. Do not be afraid." His hands were soft as they cradled her cheeks.

Calimiriel trembled like a leaf in the wind, conscious only of Elrohir's stormy eyes boring into hers. Strangely, it calmed her….and roused another strange feeling that made her uneasy. She was suddenly aware of his slender but strong arms…his soft breath against her lips….his own mouthing silent words…the hidden, unknown emotion in his silver stare…

Heat pooled in her belly and her heart skipped oddly. All she could think about now was how his lips would feel if they were on enough, it both frightened and excited her. She saw that his own expression had now changed…and if she was not mistaken, he too seemed to share that same, unusual thought. His eyes flickered down to her mouth and she could see something – a flash of desire, perhaps – settle there. His hands slid down to her arms and further down to her waist, causing her to inhale softly and shiver involuntarily. The Elf returned his attention to her now-indigo gaze. Several breathless heartbeats passed and they still stared at one another.

Elrohir shook himself suddenly and rose abruptly, eyes almost solid black. Bowing stiffly, he muttered what sounded to be "pardon me" and very nearly ran from her, leaving Calimiriel stunned, hurt, and quite confused. _What…what just happened?_ She ran a shaking hand through her hair and got to her feet, glancing about to see if any beheld the strange occurrence before running to her room to be alone.

* * *

Boromir exited the pavilion with a deep sigh, barely aware of the people who passed him. The news weighed heavily on the Gondorian captain's shoulders: the One Ring had been found by a Halfling and now was to sent back to be destroyed. That and Aragorn was revealed to be the heir to the throne of Gondor. He felt unsettled by all the changes happening at a breakneck pace; feeling out of control was not something he was used to. As Captain of Gondor, Boromir was always one step ahead of everyone: here, he was apparently two steps behind. Frodo, the Halfling from the Shire, had stepped forth and said that he would take the Ring to Mordor and now Lord Elrond and Mithrandir were to assemble a group of protectors for the young Hobbit – "one from each race", the wizard had suggested. _The worst is yet to come, to say the least,_ snorted the Man as he stepped out into the hallway. _On to lighter matters…_With a shake of his head, he set out to find the Rohirric maiden.

This proved to be less simple than once thought. She was not at noon meal as was expected, which concerned him. After asking around resulted in nothing more than confused stares and shrugs, Boromir tried one of the few places he knew she very well might be: her room.

On his way up the stairs, he saw a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw Calimiriel walking across the way to the dining hall. "My lady!" he called out, turning around and descending quickly.

She started and turned, watching the Gondorian captain jog over to her. "My lord," the maiden said simply, curtseying rigidly.

He slowed to a stop, perplexed by her altered demeanor. "I hope I am not too late to escort you to noon meal, which I promise to stay for this time," he quipped lightly, his gaze betraying his confusion.

"No indeed, I was just going myself." Her words sounded flat and her voice rough. A closer look revealed that her eyes were red from crying.

The Gondorian pursed his lips and guided her away towards a quieter corner. "Calimiriel, what troubles you?" he asked, dropping the formalities in an effort to set her at ease.

She looked away, folding her arms. "I am well, my lord," she said stiffly, clearly trying to maintain control of her emotions.

Irritated and stung by her coldness, Boromir squared his shoulders and retorted, "Forgive my intrusion, then." He moved to leave when she grabbed his arm, eyes downcast. Rocking back on his heels, he faced her and rested his hands lightly on her arms, gazing down at her tenderly. "I do not mean to offend or interfere – I am just concerned."

Clenching her jaw tightly, Calimiriel lifted her eyes to his, already feeling her control slip. "Elrohir hurt me," she said simply, face devoid of any and all emotion.

Boromir started at her words. "Hurt you how?" he inquired, his tone now clipped and his voice a few octaves deeper.

"I know not how. We were having a conversation and suddenly…he left," she lied, too embarrassed to confess that she had almost been kissed but he instead rejected her.

He could not hold back the relieved laugh. "My lady, I do not intend to disregard the validity of your reaction, but you need not be so distraught. I am certain that he merely recalled something that required his immediate attention and did not think to excuse himself. Tis unlike him to be so calloused." Without thinking, he caressed her jaw in an attempt to soothe her. "The ways of Elves is unknown to many, and their customs are just as confusing," he added with a chuckle, withdrawing his hand.

Her troubled expression remained for a few moments longer and then she too laughed lightly. "Of course. I do apologize for my whimsical emotions. I feel that the knock on the head rattled me a bit," she said with a wave of her hand, making a great effort to suppress her pain. _He would not understand. _As she had hoped, the Man brightened. "Come. The hospitality of the Elves awaits," he stated in his most regal voice, his heart skipping a few beats as she laughed at his cheerful fun.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm going to hell, I know. I hope you liked it even though Cal just got stood up (ish) by the hot, moody, younger Elf twin. :3 I have plans, so fret not - I'm not just shooting this all outta my arse. I'm going to try my hardest to get a chapter out once a week - which should be fairly simple since I'm off every other day. So if you're reading this for the first time and don't really want to get involved in one of those dead-end stories that aren't updated ever, fear not! I SHALL UPDATE WEEKLY! *gallant war cry* So please...keep reading and reviewing. Seeing y'all showing such interest in me tales inspires me to work harder. Laters! :D (Oh and btw...I had Cal forget the day of her abduction because it's logical that being hit on the head like that would cause her to suppress the traumatic events of the day; as a result, she's forgotten everything from her vision of King Isildur to the Uruk-hai invading the camp. I know this can happen because it happened to my boyfriend when he was in a crash. He only knows what happened the day of his crash because of what other people have told him. So yeah...that's my source. Bye! :)


	11. Secrets of a Stolen Night

**Chapter X**

**Secrets of a Stolen Night**

Midday waned into evening at a pace that aggravated the irate Elf. _I have seen years pass quicker than this_, Elrohir grumbled to himself as he forcefully ran his curved blade over the whetstone. His jaw ached from being clenched for so long and his fingers were decorated with numerous nicks and gashes, further betraying his hurried, foul mood. He had sought comfort in readying his weapons for the journey with his brother and Estel into the Wild to scout the Company's path; however, he found that his mind was not distracted by the mundane activity. He now was _only_ thinking about what he had just avoided – _or just rejected to your own detriment_, contradicted his emotional side. He had run to his chambers to escape, heart torn in two over his choice. Never had he run from something – or someone. He was old in years, but young in love – a fact that greatly vexed him. _I can conduct myself properly amongst my peers, but when it comes to a stray mortal, I cannot bring myself to confess a simple fact? Amada _(Fool)_…_

No matter how much he berated himself, the feeling of remorse did not slink back in embarrassment and disappear into the darker recesses of his subconscious; rather, it grew in strength and seemingly became its own entity, both thinking and speaking for itself. _**Who are you to deny her what she clearly wants? You saw how she responded to you – there should not have been any fear of denial on your part**_, it snapped with surprising ferocity.

_Denial did not trouble me_, Elrohir argued weakly, cringing as it snorted.

_**If only you could lie half as well as you fight…your guilt betrays you. You **__**knew**__** she wanted it…but you were too afraid. **_

The Elf stiffened and his free hand curled into a tight fist. _I am not afraid! She is mortal – and it would have been an ill match anyw—_

_**It does no good to perjure yourself, Elf. I can hear every thought, and I know perfectly well what you refuse to confess. You also know the falseness of your attempted rebuttal: you are also mortal. Her ability to die naturally does not fit anywhere into this conversation. **_

_I am leaving anyway_. His own resoluteness surprised even himself. _To lead her on is folly. _

_**To not rectify your wrongs ere departure is also folly**_, it countered coolly.

_I AM ONE OF THE ELDAR! I DO NOT TAKE ORDERS FROM MY OWN CONSCIENCE WHO INSISTS UPON SHAMING ME WITHOUT PAUSE!_ Elrohir roared internally, throwing away his blade as he jumped up.

_**And yet here you are – arguing with yourself over something which, when stripped of all its pretenses and masks, comes down to a matter of pride –*your* pride. Admit it! You are too proud, as well as too afraid, to tell Calimiriel that you love her!**_

_Once again, it is folly to even consider it. She fancies the Captain. _His determination faltered briefly as he realized what he had said. The Elf felt his heart fall a bit as he imagined the sweet words Boromir uttered in the maiden's ear when they were alone…the way her lips felt on his bearded cheek…the gentle sound of her breath…_It matters not_, he repeated, shaking himself with an angry huff.

_**If that is what you wish to believe, feel free. Yes, she ***__**does***__** love the Captain…yes, she has no feelings for you…but you will never forget the look in her eyes when you contemplated kissing her in that brief moment…**_The voice fell silent, leaving Elrohir more anguished than he liked to confess.

He left the room when the evening bell sounded, clad in his best tunic and trousers and hair twisted back out of his face. Each breath echoed loudly in his ears as he made his way down to the dining hall, both fearing and hoping to see her. He knew not what he would say to her or what he would even do if he saw her – _probably run away again like the coward you are_, he snorted derivatively.

To his dismay, the Elf did indeed behold Calimiriel that night. She glided across the courtyard like a fay of old, her russet locks shimmering in the fading sunlight. Her blue gown had been replaced with a pale green one with gold embroidery and orange accenting the dress throughout. The sleeves split at the shoulder and fell down alongside her arms, wafting about like scarves in the breeze. Her sky-blue eyes seemed impossibly brighter yet held a note of sorrow. The very sight of her made his heart twist agonizingly. _What have I done? _he wondered helplessly.

She glanced around her and ran a trembling hand through her beautiful mess of hair, eyes dropping to her bare feet. Her shoulders rolled forward and her gait slowed, hinting subtly that she was not happy. Seeking solace under the shade of a magnificent oak, Calimiriel watched the Elves filter into the dining hall, her lower lip caught between her teeth. No one noticed her pain – either that or they did not pursue inquiry, allowing her to work it out without the embarrassment of being observed. From the balcony, Elrohir struggled with the desire to go to her and make this all right. _If I do, I cannot escape the inevitable…if I do not, I risk hurting her permanently – if I have not already…Eru, what have I been reduced to: an idiot boy with the flightiness of a swallow?!_

"Brother?" The single word caused the Elf to jump and nearly lose his footing. Elladan stood at his left, eyeing him with a puzzled frown. Elrohir's stare quickly shifted to the Rohirric maiden, who had somehow heard Elladan's voice and was now looking up at the pair. Her eyes widened slightly and her face paled; moving faster than he had ever seen, Calimiriel hurried towards the dining hall – but not before he noticed the tears in her eyes.

"Elrohir? Are you well?" His brother's questions angered him. The Elf turned to face him, eyes dark. "_**WHAT**_?" he snapped harshly, not even trying to hide his resentment.

Elladan was greatly taken aback by Elrohir's unmasked hatred. "I asked if you were well, but I can see that it is not so."

"Your powers of observation continue to serve you well, brother. If you will excuse me…" The Elf moved to descend the stairs to dinner but halted when a hand grabbed his arm.

Wordlessly, Elladan pulled him back to Elrohir's quarters and slammed the door behind him. "What in the name of Eru Ilúvatar was all _**that**_ about?!" he spat, uncharacteristically angry.

"You startled me," Elrohir answered unperturbedly.

"You think you can lie to me so unabashed? You dishonor our friendship!" The Elf folded his arms and scowled darkly at his twin. "What exactly did I do to elicit such loathing from my own kin?"

"You did naught, Elladan. I believed you down in the hall," Elrohir insisted, stubbornly refusing to speak truthfully.

Elladan marched over to his brother and stared him down, trembling with unimpeded rage. "Again you disgrace me with your words! We are of one mind, Elrohir…why would you speak thusly to your own brother? I am no fool!"

"And yet you interfere in matters that concern you not!" countered the Elf angrily, casting aside the air of composure with little hesitance.

Elladan blinked once, a look of hurt passing across his eyes and marring his face. "Since when have you hidden aught from me?! I am no stranger who happened upon you on the road and demands to know your secrets: I am your brother! Why do you fight me? What have I done? Please tell me so that I may set right the wrong I have unwittingly committed." His fury gave way to pain.

A twinge of guilt nicked Elrohir's heart at the sight of his brother's wounded mien and his own rage ebbed. "_Goheno nin, toror_ (Forgive me, brother). My anger is not meant for you," he sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"Then for whom is it meant? Dare I ask?"

His face flushed in a rare display of embarrassment, and he found that he could not look his elder brother in the eye. "….The Captain of Gondor," he mumbled almost inaudibly.

Elladan could not help a cry of surprise, covering his mouth too late. "And pray tell why do you feel thusly towards Captain Boromir?" inquired the Elf incredulously.

"Because…" Elrohir could not bring himself to divulge his reasoning, so great was his shame. He merely dropped his eyes to the tiled floor and bit his tongue, wincing slightly at the sting and the subsequent trickle of blood that pooled in his mouth.

"_Aiya Eru_," breathed Elladan, eyes getting impossibly wider. "….You love her."

The Elf's head snapped up, shocked by his brother's forthright words. "How…?"

"Well it is only logical: why else would my brother, who is unmoved by the pleas of the enemy nor daunted by their threats, be so clearly jealous of a _**mortal**_? The conclusion is simple: you are in love with our little companion but cannot bring yourself to admit it because you believe either that she is better suited for the esteemed Captain of Gondor or that she feels for him what you feel for her. You have never been one to handle rejection well." Elladan shrugged offhandedly, eyes never leaving his brother's staggered gaze. "Be as offended as you wish, but dare deny my words, and I will not hold back."

Elrohir seemed to consider it briefly but relented a weary sigh instead. "Tis true…she deserves one of her own kind."

"And who are you to decide that?" countered Elladan pointedly. "She shares a lineage of kings whose beginnings were in the house of Elros. Thus, she is by default part _edhel _(Elf)_._"

"Elladan, do you not realize what I would be asking of her if I were to reveal my feelings? If she did love Boromir, I would be putting her into a difficult position. I would not pressure her into choosing one over the other out of obligation."

"Again, who are you to take on the responsibility of deciding how she will react? Love is uncertain, Elrohir. It would not be worth the risk if it were so easily dealt out as swords are to an army. Wars would not be fought over it if love did not have an element of peril to it. She would be a fool not to realize your vulnerability in confessing so deep and serious an emotion. If it is her rejection you fear, then there I cannot aid you; I can only offer my arm for support and my ears for listening. If you indeed love her as you say, I advise you to tell her posthaste lest you give way to the Man you envy."

"So you do not think me irrational for being so quick to love?" questioned the Elf, teetering on the brink of indecision.

"Brother, if I did, I would be hypocritical. Beren and Lúthien, our own ancestors, fell in love at first glance. Indeed, they were persecuted because of it and suffered much due to their choice; understand, though, that it was not only their love that was the subject of such denigration, but also the idea of those two races joining. Because of them, we have the privilege of choice: to be one of the Edain or the Eldar. You would be an ass, to use the very human vulgarity, to deny this opportunity."

His brother's encouraging words invigorated Elrohir's soul. As soon as his doubt had come, swiftly it left him. "Thank you, Elladan" was all he said before nodding once and disappearing out the door into the twilight.

* * *

Calimiriel exited the dining hall that night with a heavy heart. Boromir's attempts at making her feel more at ease had helped temper some of the hurt caused by Elrohir, but when he had excused himself from her presence to attend to a private matter, the Rohirric maiden had found that the solitude revived the previously suppressed anguish and intensified it to an almost unbearable extent. The Elf's callous dismissal of her after so intimate a moment had cut her to the quick. _And here I thought he fancied me…shows what a dolt I am_, she muttered inwardly, feeling very alone.

She followed a path into the woods surrounding the Elvish haven and discovered a little pavilion by the thundering falls. It sat on an isle in the middle of the River Bruinen, connected to the bank by a small bridge which arched over the water and down level with the ground mere feet away from the pergola's edge. Feeling a flicker of joy sputter in her disheartened spirit, Calimiriel crossed the exquisite bridge to the covered gazebo and took a seat on one of the benches. She sat sideways, facing the waterfall, and closed her eyes, losing herself in the roar of the river. It had a healing quality to it: the noise drowned out her pain and made it impossible to think.

A warning stirred in her heart, and the maiden came back to herself reluctantly. Movement out of the corner of her eye made her realize that she was not alone. Elrohir stood before her, adorned for travel. Gone was his indigo tunic streaked with silver and black trousers; he now wore a thin leather jerkin over a dark green tunic, brown trousers, bracers with golden inlay, and Elvish boots crafted from light but durable leather. A dark grey cloak covered his shoulders and his long white blade was strapped to his side. His ebony hair was teased into a half-plait, revealing thin braids that started at the base of his temples and joined in the back. His ashen gaze bore into her, piercing her soul. His face was partially hidden by the shadow of the falls, but she could almost distinguish his features in the veiled moonlight.

Trembling violently, Calimiriel rose and dipped into a curtsey, dropping her bright blue eyes to the stone floor. "My lord," she whispered faintly, struggling not to cry. She had not yet fully straightened when suddenly his hands were around her waist and his lips pressed against hers. The initial surprise wore off rather quickly as her desire reawakened with a vengeance; she pressed her body against his with a growl of pleasure, her hands twisting in his silky hair and her lips demanding more. She felt rather than heard his answering moan as he tightened his embrace and kissed deeper still.

Elrohir backed her up to the pillar nearest them and pinned her against it, hands traveling down to her slender waist to grip it tightly. Her lips were warm and pliant, and she tasted of spring. The scent of honeysuckle filled the air and the thundering falls strangely faded into the background; the pair was separated from reality… lost in their own world. His kisses grew frantic and she responded with equal passion, keeping one hand in his hair while letting the other explore. She traced over his chest and around to his back where she rested her roving hand against his shoulders, murmuring what he assumed was his name. So enraptured was he that had forgotten it; ecstasy filled his being and clouded his thoughts.

Calimiriel released his hair and caressed his jaw, breaking away to breathe, "Elrohir…" before being ensnared once again by the Elf's insistent lips. She did not protest in the slightest; rather, she started laughing and weeping simultaneously as they kissed anew, bliss overwhelming her. She felt his joyous mirth rumble in his chest, and her delight was complete. Her head spun at a dizzying rate, keeping her from thinking properly and stealing her breath. She was forced to break away to gasp for air, still stroking his flushed cheek as she held his stormy gaze.

Taking this time to catch his breath as well, Elrohir took a step back but still maintained his hold on her. His heart was careening so vigorously that he could see his chest move. It was several moments before he could form a coherent thought. Grinning gleefully, he took her hand and pulled her towards the bridge. They raced across and up the pebbled path to a small orchard overlooking the river. There, the Elf gathered her into his arms once more and smothered her with kisses, cradling the back of her head and pressing his free hand against the small of her back. She mirrored him without hesitation, trembling and giggling due to sheer exhilaration.

After a long while, they reluctantly ceased and stared into each other's eyes, both delirious with rapture. Elrohir was the first to speak. "I had come simply to apologize," he said unevenly, chuckling as her face turned a deep red and she looked down shyly. The Elf cupped her jaw and tilted her face up to his, smiling tenderly. "Should I take this reception to mean that you forgive me?"

"Yes, my lord," she replied, still reeling from the passionate incident.

"My lady…" he murmured gently, eyes softening visibly, "please do not fear me. I was very discourteous and cruel this morning, and for that, I apologize profusely. I was afraid and did not consider your emotions. Please forgive me." He spoke plainly and with great feeling.

"Fear you? No…I merely do not know what to make of this."

The Elf snorted softly and released her chin, clasping his hands behind his back. "If it troubles you, I shall cease. I was only attempting to offer physical comfort to ease your pain."

"Simply put, then…it meant nothing?"

He stiffened suddenly, eyes darkening. "I do not seek to beguile those I care most about. I mean what I say, and my actions reflect those words. Why would I take advantage of you?"

Calimiriel dropped her gaze to the grass and wiggled her toes, suddenly very uncertain. "I never meant….I…"

His posture relaxed and he rested a hand on her shoulder. "I merely wish to emphasize that I would never do such an abominable thing." A pause. "…If…if I may ask something of you."

"Anything, my lord."

Elrohir closed his eyes and removed his hand. "I ask you to give me a chance: a chance to prove myself to you. I know that I have not been overly forward with my emotions nor have I minced words with you. However, I do greatly desire you and your company. In the short time I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance, I…" he halted momentarily, "I have fallen in love with you. I understand that you may feel surprised or distrusting of m—" He cut off abruptly when Calimiriel pressed her finger upon his lips. His heart skipped suddenly as her hand moved down to his chest, but he did not give any further hints.

The Rohirric maiden held the Elf's gaze evenly, a faint smile gracing her fair lips. "You stray from the point: what is it you wish me to do?"

An almost imperceptible shudder passed through Elrohir, stealing his breath. A few moment's pause and he was himself again. "Forgive me. I ask that you let me contend for your heart."

"Who said you need to?" Her simple question stopped him short. He opened his mouth to speak…yet found that he had no words. He watched her face closely, searching for any sign of pretense or obligation; he found none.

"Elrohir," Calimiriel sighed, dropping the formality and addressing him by his given name, "I see that you are leaving soon for the Wilds again."

"Aye," he agreed, nodding slowly. "Tonight, in fact. I came to bid you farewell."

"You think it wise, then, to discuss so deep a matter when there is very little time to truly develop opinions on something so pivotal?" she questioned. Her words were pointed and logical, but her face disclosed to him more than he knew she intended: she did feel very strongly for him but she feared something enough to hold her tongue.

"I wish to know if I would be wasting my time – and hurting my heart – in pursuing you, my lady," Elrohir stated resolutely. When she cowered at his words, he continued in a gentler tone. "I can see that there is something between us, however mild and undeveloped. I ask you to not be afraid of those feelings and to consider them in the weeks that I am away. Once I return, we will discuss this further and if you find that you do not share my affections, rest assured that I will trouble you no longer. Is this a fair pact?"

"It is, my lord." A smile lit up her face as she swept into a curtsey.

He pulled her upright and kissed her brow. "_Hannon le, hirilnin_," the Elf breathed quietly. "I am sorry if my actions created some confusion with you."

"I am vaguely confused, but does it demand an apology? No, my lord." Her eyes sparkled in the starlight.

"You are too kind, lady. May I escort you to your chambers? The night waxes strong and I can see that you tire."

"Only if you promise not to address me so properly," she said laughing.

"Yet how can I when your name remains hidden?" he countered with a knowing glance.

Calimiriel's smile fell as a sigh escaped her lips. "Very well. I am Fíriel. My family called me 'Ree'."

"Ree." He tasted the simple word as one enjoys a fine wine. "It suits you quite well, my fair maiden. May I call you 'Ree' in the presence of others or would you prefer it to be when we are alone?"

"I would rather not."

"Then 'Ree' you shall be named only in my company," he nodded, a twinkle in his eye. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "Now…shall we?"

She blushed deeper and accepted his arm as they made their way back to her quarters. Upon reaching the threshold, the maiden turned and gazed up into his eyes, secretly yearning to be kissed. Elrohir saw the look of longing written all over her beautiful face and very nearly yielded. Restraining his less-honorable side, the Elf simply kissed her fingers and bowed. "_Queldu, melanin_ (Goodnight, my love)," he whispered before vanishing into the inky night.

* * *

**A/N: **A new chapter on time! Whew! Didn't think I'd make it. **Elvenbookworm **is my beta-reader and for that, I thank you! :)

Now, for those of you who might be asking the same question that the lovely **Elvenbookworm **did ("I don't really know where this came from - Elrohir and Calimiriel, that is. There hasn't been any real indication of attraction before now, and it just seems sudden - too sudden.") I have a response.

Cal (or Ree, as I should call her now) doesn't have any real feelings for Elrohir aside from friendly ones. I guess it's not very clear, but she is just stunned by the power behind his feelings for her. He's fallen for her fast (in the same fashion as his ancestors Beren and Luthien) but he knows she's not used to that sort of thing; thus, he tells her now so that she has something to consider while he's away and to sort of stake a claim in her heart - and to give her something to remember. ;) Don't get the wrong idea though: she has liked him for some time (if you remember, she _was_ embarrassed that she didn't impress him when they had that impromptu sword lesson, but not because she was awful. Rather, she was upset because she felt inadequate in his eyes) but she subconsciously opted for Boromir because he was mortal and more on her level in that regard. She doesn't know the story about Elrond so she doesn't realize she has a chance with Elrohir, but I have a feeling that once she does, things will change rapidly.

Then again, I don't know...Ree is kinda taking this one outta my hands. I hope y'all still keep up with my story! I won't dwell too long on Elrohir's absence (as in, I won't take four chapters for him to return) and I'll try not to shorten it unnecessarily. Thank you very much, my pretties! :D


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